


Training Wheels

by deansmachines (flannelfeelings)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse of a Minor, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Babies, Bottom Dean, Character Development, Childbirth, Dean Has Issues, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean is a foster kid, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Hurt/Comfort, Little plot, M/M, More of a character story, Mpreg, Panic Attacks, Parent Dean, Past Child Abuse, Pregnant Dean, Protective Benny, Protective Bobby, Protective Castiel, Protectiveness, Teenage Parent, Teenage Pregnancy, The father of Dean's baby is not mentioned or acknowledged, This gets kinda dark wow, Very character driven, mentions of abuse, pretty ooc if you ask me, self hatred, therapy sessions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:42:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4887709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flannelfeelings/pseuds/deansmachines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Passed around from foster home to foster home, Dean's never had a place that he could really call home.</p><p>Now, a pregnant foster kid, struggling to find his place in the world, juggling complicated relationships with his foster family and his best friend, Dean begins to realize that home is not a place. </p><p>Home is a feeling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Polarize

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really character driven story, so some might find it kinda boring. There's obviously some plot but it's more about Dean's journey and his life/feelings, so if you're not interested in that, turn back now! Also, the father of his baby is not named or mentioned, so don't worry about it!
> 
> I'll put individual content warnings at the beginning of each chapter, so read if you're triggered by things, or ignore if you want to avoid spoilers. 
> 
> Also, I know Cas isn't in this chapter, he comes in in ch.2 so if you're interested, he'll be here soon haha!
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts :)

**AUGUST**

In retrospect, Dean should've expected this. After all, his dad is crap, his home life is inadequate, and the last foster family to take a chance on him dumped him soon after for a reason he’s not yet ready to admit. And okay, while other teens worry about acne and school dances, Dean's more concerned about where his next meal is coming from.

But still, a shrink? Really?

The gray carpet and burnished maroon walls make the whole room seem almost suffocating. The disturbing lack of windows unsettles him, and the shrink herself has an uptight aura that itches his skin.

"Good morning Dean. My name is Ellen. Your social worker Ms. Moseley seems to think sessions with me will do you good."

Dean scoffs, crossing his arm, "What? She think I'm crazy or something?"

Ellen folds one leg over the other, eyeing him with an unreadable expression, " _Are_ you crazy?"

"Isn't it your job to tell me that?"

"No that isn't my job."

"Then what do you do for a fifty bucks an hour?"

"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

"What's the point?"

"Because I asked you to."

Dean let's out a defeated sigh, gnawing on his lower lip before he allows himself a brief moment to think it over. On one hand, she could be totally cool and really just want to help. On the other hand, she could be a money grabbing evil bitch who will tell his secrets to anyone and everyone.

In his experience, the latter is more likely.

“I’m 16,” he recites robotically, “my mom’s dead, my dad’s an abusive asshole, and I can’t stay in a foster family to save my skin.”

Ellen eyes his middle thoughtfully, pursing her lips, “Can you tell me why your last foster family let you go?”

Dean scowls, crossing his arms over his chest angrily, “Missouri said you wouldn’t bring it up.”

Ellen’s eyes soften, “Well Dean, we’re going to need to talk about it eventually. You’re 10 weeks along, right? Don’t you want to make a decision about...the baby?”

Dean’s lip curls up in disgust, “Do you have to call it that?”

“What would you prefer?”

Dean scrubs a hand across his forehead, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath, “I don’t care lady.”

“Dean, you seem like a smart kid. I don’t want to sugarcoat things with you. I think you’re above that.” she shakes her head, “point is boy, you’ve got a bun in the oven and you’re gonna have to discuss this. Ms. Mosley said you haven’t even told anyone who the father is.”

“That’s cause it ain’t no one's business!” he snaps.

“Whoever the father is, does he know?”

“No, and who gives a fuck anyway?” Dean demands, scowl deepening into the creases of his young face, “can we talk about something else?”

“Were you raped, Dean?”

“God!” his eyes widen, and his brows furrow even more, “No! The hell’s wrong with you? I- god- I _wanted_ it. What the fuck lady?”

Ellen puts her hands up submissively, “Okay okay, I’m just trying to make sure Dean. The foster system isn’t always safe. I just want to help Dean.”

He presses his lips into a thin line, “Right. Well, this has been fantastic. Can I go now?”

She sighs quietly, “I can’t force you to stay. But you do have another appointment next Friday. We’ll talk about your new family, huh?”

What he thinks is: _whatever lady, not like this one’ll last any longer than any of the others._

But what he says, is, “Sure.” and he exits quickly.

* * *

 

Ms. Mosley’s car smells like pine oil and cheap leather. It’s an old car, a beat up Volkswagen of some sort, and he kinda hates it. He also kinda likes it a little. She drives slowly, at least five miles under the speed limit, and she clears lanes out like nobody’s business. Guess that happens when you’re old, Dean thinks, but he’s not sure if it’s just her trying to take the road for herself. She has a power complex.

“You’re gonna like this new family Dean,” she assures the boy quietly, “they’ve already been informed of your…” she eyes his midsection cautiously, “condition, and they are fully prepared to accommodate.”

 _‘Fully prepared to accommodate’_ usually means locking Dean in his room until he gets hungry enough to behave.

But he doesn’t say that. He says, “Mhm.”

She sighs quietly, “I know it’s been tough for you baby, but I got a good feelin’ about these people. And if you wanna keep this child...they’ll be the right one’s to help you do it.”

Dean had already told Missouri that he wasn’t going to get an abortion. Sure, he was pro-choice and all that came with it, but he couldn’t personally bring himself to do it. Not that he’s a softy he just...couldn’t. Hell, there’s no good way to explain it without sounding like a complete marshmallow. Either way, he ain’t getting rid of it until it’s born. Then he can give it up for adoption or something.

So it can fall right back into the system he’s in. Awesome.

He shakes his head to clear it, “Yeah.”

“We’re here,” she mumbles, killing the loud, clanging engine of the Volkswagen. Dean looks out through the windshield at an elderly, green two-story with white trim and dilapidated gutters. The grass is overgrown, the paint is chipped, the roof is slanted and the brick porch steps are a death hazard.

He frowns, “Nice place.”

“Don’t go judgin’ right away boy. It ain’t the house that matters, it’s the family.” Missouri scolds, “now climb on out and lets go get introduced.”

Dean sighs and gets out of the car, helping Ms. Mosley out as well. She ain’t the youngest gal on the block. They walk up the stairs slowly and Dean takes her arm, nervous around the pathetic, torn up brick. God, someone should really fix that.

They reach the door and he releases her arm. She rings the doorbell. Dean counts off the seconds in his head.

 _1...2...3…._ not a quick bunch are they? _...4...5...oh god, it’s opening._ The front door swings back, and a tall, husky man with a gray-laced, auburn beard appears in the doorway. His dark green eyes are well worn and circled by wrinkles and smile lines, wispy brows pulled down thoughtfully over them. He wears a ratty baseball cap and a plaid vest with faded jeans to not-match.

“You must be Dean,” his voice is gruff, but not unkind, “my name is Bobby Singer, welcome to my home.” he holds his hand out for Dean to shake.

Dean stares until Missouri elbows him in the arm, and he quickly grasps Bobby’s hand before letting go. This man reminds him a little of his father, wiry beard, dark eyes and immense height smashed into one menacing combination. He swallows.

Before any of the three can say anything, two teenage boys appear behind Bobby. One is tall and broad-shouldered, built like a linebacker. He’s got sandy blonde hair and a round, but clean-cut jaw. His eyes are a crystal clear blue, pink lips drawn up in an amused expression. The boy next to him is about three inches shorter, -they’re both clearly taller than Dean- but more lean. His brunette hair is worn in a shaggy style that frames his forehead and sharp jaw, hazel eyes clear and glistening. Small dimples indent into his cheeks as he flashes Dean an even smile.

“These are my boys, Benny and Sam.” Bobby says, gesturing as he speaks, “guys, this is Ms. Mosley and the one I was telling you about, Dean.”

“Pleasure to meet you ma’am,” Benny nods to Missouri with a warm smile. His voice is a slow, southern twang that makes Dean’s nethers tremble, “welcome, Dean.”

“Hi.” Dean replies stupidly, embarrassed at how weak his voice sounds.

Sam gives him a small wave, “How’s it going?”

Dean doesn’t answer that, just nods once and returns the wave.

“Well why are we just standing here? Let’s bring your things inside, eh Dean?” Bobby passes Dean and Missouri on the stairs, Benny and Sam following. Dean quickly heads after them, meeting them at the trunk of Missouri's car while she watches carefully from the porch.

Dean reaches in to pull his suitcase out, before Bobby rests a hand on his shoulder. Dean flinches away unintentionally, and Bobby’s expression softens, quickly removing his hand, “Son, we’ll take care of it, don’t worry. Benny, what’re you doing just staring, get the boy’s bag would ya?”

Although the words are an order, the tone is pleasant and lighthearted, and Benny seems completely at ease reaching past Dean to take the suitcase from his fingers. Sam grabs Dean’s backpack and slings it over his shoulder, and Bobby closes the trunk lid.

“Thanks,” Dean mutters dumbly, “But I can-”

“Nonsense,” Bobby scoffs as the four of them near the porch, “you shouldn’t be doin’ heavy lifting in your…” he chooses his next word carefully, “position.”

Dean feels sick to his stomach. _Fully prepared to accommodate_ , it would seem. He hopes his blush isn’t as visible as it feels, “Uh...thank you, sir.”

“Please kiddo, call me Bobby. And it’s no problem Dean, we take care of each other here.” he nods once to Dean’s middle, “And anyone else who comes along.”

They reach the porch, where Missouri is smiling, “Well, I’ll leave you four to get acquainted. Dean, you still have the cell I gave you?”

Dean nods, patting his front pocket to feel the familiar weight of the flip phone Ms. Mosley had given him two years ago on his fourteenth birthday, “Yes ma’am.”

“And you’ll call if you need _anything_?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Missouri nods and says to Bobby, “You received all the papers I sent? About his appointments?”

“I did,” Bobby assures her, gesturing for Benny and Sam to bring Dean’s things inside so the three of them are alone, “he’s got the therapist on Friday afternoons and his next OB appointment is in three weeks?”

“Perfect. I’ll be in touch Bobby.” Missouri turns to Dean and envelops him in her arms, squeezing tight, “you call if you need anything, alright Dean? Even if you just feel woozy, I want a phone call, understand me boy?”

“Yes Missouri.”

“I’ll see you soon. Nice to meet you Mr. Singer.”

“Likewise Ms. Mosley. We’ll take good care of Dean.”

“You better.” she responds in utter seriousness, and heads back to her car.

Dean sighs softly, watching her drive away for the ten billionth time in his life.

“Would you like to come in, Dean?” Bobby asks gently. Dean nods once, because what the hell other choice does he have? and follows Bobby inside. The door closes behind him, and the clicking noise sends a spike of anxiety through his veins.

He takes a deep breath. _This guy’s not gonna hurt you Dean, he’s a cupcake._ His self-assurance is thinly placed and transparent, but he forces himself to relax and looks to Bobby expectantly.

“How ‘bout a tour?”

Dean nods again. He likes nodding. Noncommittal has always been his style; safer.

Bobby shows him around. It’s a typical house, shabby kitchen, carpeted living room, average bedrooms. When they reach the one that will belong to Dean, he steps in to explore, puttering around. Benny and Sam have already set his bags by the twin bed. There’s a dark brown nightstand, a dresser, and a plastic-rimmed, floor length mirror. The closet is small, but manageable, especially since Dean only has a suitcase full of clothes. He finds himself puzzled as he approaches another door, and pushes it open to reveal a small bathroom, complete with all the fixin’s. There’s shampoo and body wash in the shower, and a toothpaste and toothbrush set on the sink.

He turns to Bobby, frowning, “What’s this?”

“Well, that’s your bathroom.”

Dean’s eyes bulge, “Mine and who else's?”

“Just yours Dean.”

“I...get my own bathroom?” Dean has lived in places that could barely be called houses, and slept on things that could barely be considered sleeping bags. And now, all of a sudden, he gets a fucking bathroom all to himself? No sharing? No waiting for eight kids to get done before stepping into a freezing cold shower completely void of any quality cleaning products?

Bobby’s got a small, knowing smile on his face, “You sure do.”

Dean remembers at his last house when the morning sickness had first kicked in. The bathroom was always occupied, so he’d end up curled over the trash can out back, the smell of rotting garbage only increasing his illness. God, how pathetic is he that he’s overjoyed at the thought of puking in a nice clean toilet?

He swallows bile in his throat, “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say a thing,” Bobby promises, “You hungry?”

 _Almost always_ , he thinks, but says: “Sure.”

“I’m gonna get dinner started. If you’d like to shower and maybe get properly introduced to the boys, that’d be just fine. I’d like it if you got to bed a little early tonight, school starts in a a few days, I always try to get the boys into a routine at the end of summer.”

Dumbfounded, Dean replies, “Yeah. Okay.”

Bobby nods once and exits the room, closing the door behind him. Dean stares at it for a while, then heads into his bathroom to shower away the day.

* * *

 

He finds himself clad in a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt he’d found at the bottom of his suitcase. He treads barefoot through the house, the cool mahogany floors grounding him a little as he steps down the stairs towards the smell of cooking food. He can hear Sam and Benny talking loudly in the kitchen, Bobby throwing in a comment every once in a while. He sucks in a deep breath, running a hand through his wet, military cropped hair, and heads into the kitchen slowly.

Upon seeing his entrance, Benny smiles, “Hey Dean. Good timing, food’s done.”

God, that smell. Dean’s never smelled anything like it before. His stomach snarls almost angrily with hunger and he walks robotically over to the table, finding a chair and sitting. Bobby sets a plate of food in front of him, and he can only stare while the other three begin to eat. He picks out the food he recognizes. Carrots, mashed potatoes, chicken, broccoli and….

“What’s this?” he points to the unidentified object on his plate.

Bobby quirks an eyebrow up, “It’s cauliflower Dean.”

Dean picks up the seemingly white broccoli, feeling stupid, “oh.”

Hey, he should be getting credit for recognizing ⅚ of the foods on his plate. It’s not like he’s ever had a well balanced meal in his life. Like...ever. He looks down at the plate and shuts his big mouth, focusing on eating and ignoring the puzzled looks from his other three table mates. Nutrients right? The...the baby needs vegetables and shit. He scarfs those down first, actually finding that he likes cauliflower.

“So, Benny?” Bobby asks the oldest boy as he eats, “You’re joining the team again this year?”

Benny nods eagerly, “Hopefully some scouts will come see me this year. Senior year...it’s kinda my last chance to shoot for an athletic scholarship.”

“You’re gonna kill ‘em,” Bobby assures him sternly, “you’re the best damn linebacker I’ve ever seen.”

“Dad,” Benny chuckles, looking embarrassed, “Thanks.”

“And Sam? You’re gonna be starting high school, are you nervous?”

Hold on, that kid’s a _freshman?_ And he’s taller than Dean? Bullshit.

“Nah,” Sam snorts, “I’m gonna get into the mathletes as soon as I can though.”

“That’s good Sam, I’m proud of you.”

A feeling of inferiority creeps up on Dean’s shoulders. Here he is, sitting beside this well-balanced, suburban foster family. A dedicated, college-bound linebacker, an intelligent math geek, and a pregnant slacker who did absolutely nothing sophomore year, and doesn’t expect to succeed at all in his upcoming junior year. Yeah, he’ll _really_ fit in here. He’s not hungry anymore.

“May I be excused?” he asks quietly.

Bobby eyes his plate unhappily, “You barely touched your food. Was it alright?”

“It was great.”

Hesitantly, Bobby nods, “Yeah. You can be excused. You uh...you need anything?”

Dean shakes his head, depositing his plate in the sink and getting out of there as fast as possible. He rushes up the stairs and closes the door to his new bedroom, cursing when he notices the locks have been removed. The upside: Bobby’s not planning to lock him in. The downside: Bobby’s clearly dealt with foster children before.

The tears come after he’s clutched a pillow to his chest and buried his face in the covers. He isn’t even sure why he’s crying, maybe it’s pregnancy hormones. Either way, he finds himself completely incoherent as he sobs into the warm fabric of Bobby’s plaid comforter.

_God Dean...chill out. You finally get a house that ain't horrible at the first bite and you’re already blubbering? C’mon, you’re better than this._

He swallows hard, a whimper choking up in his throat. His stomach twists, and nausea bubbles up his middle, threatening to come through his mouth. He barely has time to throw the pillow aside and sprint across the floor into the bathroom, falling to his knees in front of the toilet before he gets rid of his barely touched dinner. Well, at least he’s got his own bathroom.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door. He spits once, but another bought of nausea brings him back over the toilet, and he retches violently. The doctor Missouri had brought him to told Dean that pregnancy passes in three stages, or trimesters. Morning sickness is in the first trimester. Dean can’t wait to get past this stage.

“Dean?” Bobby’s voice calls, a hint of what sounds like concern in it. God, this guy’s relentless. Why’s he so hell bent on pretending he gives a shit?

“I’m fine!” Dean calls back, sort of proud by how stable his voice sounds. Unfortunately, the end of his reply is cut off by a gag, and he buries his head in the bowl again.

He hears the door open.

Is Bobby angry at him for not eating?

Footsteps echo across the wooden floor, loud workboots. Such a familiar sound…

Dean vomits again, tears staining his cheeks once more.

 _Thud...thud...thud...scrape_ \- the bathroom door creaks open.

He pukes some more, wondering how he’s not completely empty yet. A hand touches his shoulder, he gasps. But the voice that follows is not an angry shout, it’s a low murmur, “Hey, Dean? You with me? Look at me kid.”

Dean gags once and glances sideways at Bobby, crouched beside him on the cool tile.

“I’m fine,” he croaks, quickly wiping at his wet eyes.

Bobby’s brows pull down in concern, “Morning sickness?” he asks, a little uncertainty in his eyes. Dean wonders if Missouri had briefed him on some of Dean’s symptoms in order for him to _“accommodate.”_

He nods.

Bobby’s nodding his head too, “Okay. Alright. Um...you still feel sick? Gotta puke more?”

Dean swallows once, waiting a moment to gauge his stomach’s reaction. When he feels no upset, he shakes his head, “no.”

“Okay.” Bobby pushes down on the plunger and flushes the toilet, “let’s getcha off the floor, hm?”

He reaches a hand out, and Dean hesitates. He glances at Bobby, the older man's expression patient, full of seemingly genuine sincerity. Reluctantly, he takes Bobby’s hand. Bobby pulls him to his feet slowly, placing another hand on the small of his back to keep him balanced.

“How far in are you kid?”

“10 weeks,” Dean answers softly.

“When’s this usually over?”

“Uh, nine months?”

“I meant the sickness, boy.”

“Oh! Sorry. Um...doc said like 16 weeks.”

Bobby whistles, “Alright. Well, you need to get somethin’ in your stomach. Think you could handle some soup?”

“Bobby, you don’t have to-”

“Think you could handle that Dean?”

Seeing no room for argument, Dean nods once.

“Okay. How about you climb on into bed and I’ll bring you up some soup, maybe a bucket too so you don’t have to head for the toilet so often. Sound good?”

A strange warmth spreads through Dean’s chest at Bobby’s words, “I-uh- yes Bobby.”

“Alrighty.” Bobby heads for the door.

“Wait,” Dean says as he’s about to leave.

“Yeah kiddo?”

“Uh…” his face feels warm, “Thank you.”

Bobby smiles once, “Like I said kid, we take care of each other around here.”

* * *

 

When Dean wakes up, the half-eaten soup is still sitting on his nightstand. Sunlight streams through the window by his bed, making him squint as he moves into a sitting position. His stomach churns, and he swallows hard, praying to an ever-uncaring god that he won’t throw up. Luckily, his stomach settles quickly and he braves standing up. He takes the soup down to the kitchen, where Benny is alone at the table, nursing a mug of coffee.

“Hey Dean, feeling better?” the bigger boy asks, clear eyes shining in the early morning sun.

Dean nods once, “Yeah. Thanks.”

Benny eyes him, taking a sip of coffee before continuing, “You hungry?”

Dean’s stomach aches with hunger, but he replies, “Uh, I’m okay.”

The blue-eyed teen quirks an eyebrow up, “Oh yeah? Well Bobby says you need extra food for the uh, for the baby. How ‘bout I make something?”

Dean hesitates, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wanna.”

“Um...okay.”

Benny gets up from his seat and Dean moves out of the way, taking another seat at the table. The clock above the stove tells him it’s noon.

“Whoa! Why- uh- how come Bobby let me sleep in so late?”

Benny turns to him, “What, do you have obligations?”

“I thought he wanted us to get on a routine.”

Benny scoffs, “Yeah, well, you looked like you needed the sleep kid. You oughtta thank him instead of complaining.”

Dean frowns; when Bobby calls him kid, it’s a term of endearment. It sounds like an insult coming from Benny’s mouth, “Okay.”

Maybe if Benny were smaller, Dean would’ve challenged him and told him just what he thought of that nickname. Maybe if Dean wasn’t swaying on his feet with morning sickness. Maybe if Bobby hadn’t been so freakishly amazing last night. Maybe if Dean wasn’t desperately hoping to stay here forever.

Benny sighs, “I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m sorry.”

Maybe if Benny hadn’t of said that. Dean’s not used to people apologizing to him.

“It’s okay.”

“I…” Benny scratches the back of his neck, gnawing on his lip, “We’re glad to have you here Dean, I mean it.”

Dean looks down at his bruised up, scarred hands, “Okay.”

“Did I just ruin this Dean?”

“Ruin what?”

“I was kinda hoping you’d start to trust us.”

Dean clears his throat, “your bacon is burning.”

“Shit!” Benny quickly removes the sizzling bacon from the stove and drops it on a plate. Then, he returns to the pancakes, “hope you like it crispy.”

Dean almost smiles.

When the food is done, Benny sets a plate in front of Dean, and hands him a glass of orange juice. He also places a small, clinical looking bottle with a screw-on yellow top. “Bobby said to give you those, he got them this morning. They’re uh...whatcha call ‘ems...prenatal vitamins. You know, for the baby.”

Dean frowns suspiciously at the pills, and Benny quickly says, “he didn’t do anything to them Dean. The safety seal is on. He’d never hurt any of us.”

Dean ignores that last quip and checks to find the safety seal still intact. He figures that’s alright, and the baby needs it, so he downs it with some OJ.

“You’re not going to eat?” Dean asks as Benny sits down across from him, going back to his coffee.

He shakes his head, “I had avocado and a hard boiled egg for breakfast. Trying to get in shape for football season.”

Dean frowns at him, taking a bite of the sweet pancakes, “You look pretty in shape to me.”

It’s true, Benny’s thick arms are practically made of muscle, as visible in his white v-neck. His waist is trim and firm looking, long legs thick around the thighs and ass...Dean swallows quickly and looks away, disgusted with himself. God, that’s his foster brother for crying out loud, what the hell is wrong with him? Plus, he’s damaged goods, ogling people is the last thing he needs to cross off his to-do-list.

Benny smirks, “Yeah? You think so?”

Dean frowns, taking another bite of pancake, quickly changing the subject, “Where’s Bobby?”

“He took Sam down to the school to sign him up for that math club thing. Then they’re gonna go get Sam his driving permit.”

Driving permit. Shit. Dean should probably have one of those, huh? Except, who the hell was gonna teach him to drive, his abusive dad or his shitty foster parents? Yeah, not likely.

“Dean, you okay?”

“Mhm.”

Benny’s brows furrow a bit, “you got your license Dean?”

Dean shakes his head, “Nuh-uh.”

“Want me to teach you how to drive?”

Dean looks up from his half eaten pancakes, “You...you’d do that?”

“Sure, gotta learn sometime. You and Sam can learn together.”

“Uh… wow, um, thank you Benny.”

Benny smiles brightly, eyes lighting up as he does so, “Sure thing. We take care of each other Dean.”

Yeah, Dean’s starting to realize that.

* * *

 

School shopping. An unfamiliar and frightening concept to almost any foster child. Not so much the shopping itself, but the impending threat of a new school, a new family, and the inevitable end of both new things. Dean doesn’t like school shopping.

“Kiddo, what are you thinking?” Bobby asks softly while Sam and Benny disperse to find clothing that suits them.

Dean leans on the cart, gnawing on the inside of his mouth, “Nothin’ important.”

“Bull,” Bobby argues, “Every thought that goes through your head is important.”

His mouth pulls up a little at Bobby’s words, “Just don’t like school shopping too much.”

“Nervous about school?”

Dean blows a low breath out. Nervous? Really? Why would a pregnant, sixteen year old foster kid have any reason to be nervous?

“No.” he mumbles.

“Don’t worry kiddo, Benny and Sam will take care of you. Anyone steps outta line, you have the linebacker put ‘em in their place, okay? Don’t be afraid to go to them for help.”

Although comforted by Bobby’s words, Dean is no less anxious about his first day tomorrow, “Okay.”

“Why don’t you go look for some clothes?”

He gnaws on his lip, glancing down at his still slim middle, “Uh Bobby...they probably won’t fit for long.”

Bobby’s eyes soften, “That’s okay, you can wear them after the baby’s born.”

Bobby doesn’t seem to want argument on this, so Dean heads off to grab a few pairs of clothes. Most of what he grabs ends up being flannel shirts and jeans, but nobody says anything about his very grunge fashion choice. He’ll just be glad to get into something that’s not torn or dirty in some way. He sits next to Sam on the way back to Bobby’s. He likes Sam, the kid is quiet, nice and relaxed. He doesn’t make Dean nervous like Benny and Bobby sometimes do. Dean plans to stay by him.

Sam smiles, “Are you nervous to be starting school?”

“No. Are you?”

“Kinda yeah.” he laughs a little, “it probably sounds dumb to someone who’s already in high school, but y’know, I’ve got your usual freshman jitters.”

“If it makes you feel any better, on my first day of freshman year I slipped and fell down the stairs in front of a bunch of people.” Dean says to him, “It was embarrassing. It was raining so my butt landed in a puddle.”

He sees Bobby’s smile in the rearview mirror, and Benny chuckles once. Okay, so Dean didn’t really fall on his ass in front of people, and they obviously know that, but if it makes Sam feel better, who gives a shit?

Sam giggles, “That must’ve been horrible. I kinda do feel better.”

“Yeah, but everyone forgot about it in a few days. Just do your own thing and no one’ll bug you.”

“Thanks Dean.”

Dean looks at the rearview mirror again, and Bobby nods once. Dean glances away, feeling himself almost smile from the approval.

* * *

 

After dinner, Dean stays up in his room, loading things into his backpack and trying to comprehend that this is his life for the moment. He finally has all new things for school, new clothes that smell freshly of department store fabric, and a brand-spankin new backpack with special straps because Bobby says too much weight on his back is bad for the baby. Dean doesn’t know if that’s true, but he doesn’t care. For once in his life, it’s turning out like someone actually gives a flying fuck what happens to him, and even to his unborn baby. He’ll take whatever this guy gives him.

He hadn’t been lying when he said he wasn’t nervous. Nervous doesn’t quite fully encompass what he’s feeling about starting school tomorrow. Even now as he thinks about it, his stomach turns unpleasantly, and he tenses in case he needs to make a beeline for the bathroom. The feeling passes, and he goes back to loading up the bag with supplies. Maybe he can get good grades this year. Shit, maybe he can go to college.

College. And unrealistic concept that had once seemed like a distant and unattainable dream. But now? These past few days with Bobby are making that dream seem like a slight possibility. Maybe he could keep the baby...go to school and get a good job. Get out of this cycle. He’s not pinning his hope on that, but it’d be a nice alternative to what he expects.

There’s a gentle rap on the door, and Bobby’s voice calls, “Hey Dean? Ya decent?”

“Mhm!”

The door creaks open and Bobby steps in. He smiles at Dean’s attire, he’d bought him a new pair of soft cotton pajamas. Dean is relishing in the comfort and luxury he’s not used to.

“You all good to go for tomorrow?” he checks, eyeing Dean’s backpack warily, “your bag ain’t too heavy is it?”

He shakes his head, no.

“I uh...I wanted to give you something.”

Dean’s brows furrow in confusion; what more could this guy possibly have to give?

Bobby scratches his beard nervously, “I gave a present to Sam and Benny when they got here too. It’s...kind of like a welcome home gift.”

Home. He uses that word so easily. It makes Dean feel ill.

“You didn’t have to-”

“Dean, let me have my traditions. I know I didn’t have to.”

Dean shuts up. “Um...alright.”

Bobby sighs roughly, still scrubbing a hand over his wiry facial hair, “I know that you haven’t...decided what you want to do yet. But...I saw this and...well, y’know, I thought you might like it.” He fumbles around in his back pocket and unfolds a small piece of fabric. It takes Dean a minute to decipher that it’s a tiny flannel onesie.

Oh.

His stomach churns and bile creeps up his throat.

He swallows it down, “B-Bobby-”

“Now I’m not tryna sway you either way,” Bobby assures him, “Dean, I don’t know you very well yet, but you seem like you got a lotta love to give kiddo, be a shame to put that to waste. I…” he bites his lip, “I’ll leave it here on the dresser, okay? And if you want to throw it away when I leave, I promise I won’t bawl like the ugly girl at prom.”

A small breath escapes Dean’s mouth, as Bobby sets the onesie on the dresser and moves towards the door. “Get some sleep kiddo,” he says, and closes the door behind him.

Dean hesitantly steps towards the onesie as if it’s a IED about to blow. Swallowing hard, he slowly reaches out and plucks it up, feeling the soft, smooth fabric envelop his shaking fingers. He brings it to his face; it’s warm and thick, cozy for a newborn baby to stay comfortable in chilly New York weather. It smells like pine needles, probably from Bobby, who always reeks of ‘em, which makes no sense, cause he told Dean he owns a mechanics garage.

It’s really soft, and so small...Dean can’t believe at some point, something that will fit into it is gonna come out of him. It’s kinda crazy. He glances down at his abdomen, still completely inconspicuous.

“What do you think?” he asks quietly, not sure who he’s talking to, “think this’ll be comfy?”

Obviously, he receives no answer. He folds the onesie up and puts it in his sock drawer.


	2. Done All Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Ch.2 hope you like it! 
> 
> Possible trigger warnings: mentions of suicide/bullying and flashbacks of abuse, but not in detail. I think that's probably it. 
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! :)

6 A.M. Dean knows the drill.

He yanks himself out of bed, dragging into the shower and thoroughly scrubbing his body. He throws up twice down the drain. He’s not sure if it’s the morning sickness, or nerves, but either way, it’s not exactly a good start to the first day.

He dresses in a pair of dark jeans, a battered old Zeppelin tee, and a red flannel. God, he looks like one of those indie, grunge kids. But he figures there’s a big difference between a fashion choice, and being broke. At least Bobby sprang for some quality jeans, and the flannel is actually pretty nice. Though, he wears his cheap t-shirt like a medallion. He’s been through a lot with it.

He makes his way down the stairs, inhaling deeply at the aroma of cooking food. Benny and Sam are across from each other at the kitchen table, eating large plates of eggs, bacon and french toast. God, Bobby really doesn’t stiff the kids on food, does he? Though, Benny just has egg whites and a piece of toast. Still trying to get in shape, Dean observes.

“Morning Dean,” Benny greets him with a bright, handsome smile, “how’d ya sleep?”

Dean can’t remember the last time he got more than 4 consecutive hours of sleep, but he says, “Good.”

“Hungry?” Bobby asks, gesturing to the stove, still overflowing with food.

Dean swallows, his stomach still tense and unsure, “No.” he doesn’t want to risk eating just to have it come up in class. Yeah, that’d be a nice start to the year.

Bobby frowns, “How about you eat just a little somethin? Put my mind at ease.”

He grimaces at the thought, but ends up having a few pieces of french toast. Fortunately, he doesn’t feel sick immediately after eating, so he drinks some OJ, takes that damn prenatal vitamin, and grabs his bag. Bobby gives each of the boys a five dollar bill for lunch, which surprises Dean. He can’t remember the last time he’d been given lunch money. God, what kind of suburban dream is he in?

Benny drives the three of them to school in his 1960 Chevy pickup. He tells Dean that Bobby had fixed it up for him at the garage and given it to him for his 16th birthday. It has a loud, unruly engine that sort of reminds Dean of Missouri’s Volkswagen. Dean sits by the window, Sam in the middle. The familiar sound of a beat up engine is a gentle comfort on the ride to school.

Dean’s been to a bajillion high schools before, but none so crowded. This school is huge, milling with people, and riddled with large buildings and staircases. It’s a little rainy today, so Benny tells him to be careful walking up and down the stairs. Dean appreciates the sentiment, but he knows how to walk.

After Benny finishes showing him to all his classes, he says, “Okay I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go show Sam to his 1st hour. You’ll be okay here for a few minutes?”

Dean nods and Benny leaves. Sighing, he starts to wander around, eyeing the unfamiliar buildings suspiciously. He treks up the stairs back to where his 1st hour had been, and then starts back down to go wait for Benny. He walks a little fast, wanting to get back by a familiar face.  

Unfortunately, halfway down, he slips. Stupid, fuckin piece of shit, ratty ass, damn converse! He hates these shoes, he hates these shoes, he fuckin-

“Ugh!” he lands on his butt at the bottom of the stairs, groaning as a sharp pain dances up his back and through his legs. Wetness forms on his jeans and for a second he’s terrified that he’s miscarried the kid, until he realizes he fell butt-first into a puddle.

You gotta be fuckin kidding. Well, ain’t that poetic? Hope Sam gets a kick out of this later.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” the deepest voice he’s ever heard inquires in an urgent manner. He looks up into a pair of concerned cerulean eyes. Dean’s jaw falls slack as a coffee-haired, tall boy with a lean, muscled body reaches his hand out. Clumsily, Dean clasps his palm and allows the boy to lift him to his shaky feet. The boy steadies Dean, placing a hand on his hip and one on his shoulder.

“Uh-” Dean starts, but he’s cut off by a southern twang.

“Dean! Holy shit are you alright?!” Benny’s at his side in an instant, hands combing over him worriedly, “God are you okay? Did that seriously just happen? Oh my god. Hey, are you okay? What hurts?”

“I’m fine!” Dean snaps, surprising both boys, “I-” he pats his butt and groans loudly in complaint.

“What?” they both ask at the same time.

“I landed in a damn puddle,” he curses, “ugh!”

Upon seeing that Dean is apparently okay enough to complain, Benny looks towards the other boy, “You can leave now.”

The brunette boy narrows his eyes, “Maybe I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Maybe it’s none of your damn business, Novak.” Benny growls.

Dean crinkles his nose, what the fuck is going on there?

The “Novak” guy grinds his teeth together, “Whatever Benny, why don’t you save the anger for the field, huh? You could probably use it. See you around Dean.”

He struts away, and Dean can practically see the steam shooting out of Benny’s ears.

“Uh, what was that?” he demands as he slips out of his flannel and ties it around his waist to hide the nasty wet spot.

“You had to fall?” Benny snarls, “ _right in front of Castiel Novak?_ I told you to be careful!”

Dean scowls, feeling emboldened by his stress and frustration, not even afraid to challenge the larger boy, “Right Benny, cause I totally _wanted_ to break my ass on the first fuckin’ day of school? And who the hell is that anyway?”

Benny throws his hands up in exasperation, “Nevermind! I just, _gah_!” he whirls on his heel and stomps away, his feathers clearly ruffled by the interaction with Castiel.

Awesome Dean, nice going.

He sighs loudly and makes his way to first hour to wait out the bell. He tries to console himself with the assurance that this home will only last a few weeks at most. Then, he’ll be out of here and in a new, probably shittier home. That’s the way it goes.

His first three periods pass relatively quickly, and by the time lunch has started, he’s more than ready to leave. He doesn’t know to where, but he knows he doesn’t want to be here. Dean has had enough first days to know the drill, he’ll suffer through each day in silence until he moves. He heads for the library, wanting to avoid seeing Benny and Sam. The last thing he needs is them checking up on him. He finds a nice deserted table in the back, and seats himself silently.

“Hey Dean.”

He looks up into a newly acquainted pair of azure eyes. Castiel.

“I don’t believe we were properly introduced,” the boy says, sliding into a seat across from Dean, “My name is Cas. Nice to meet you.”

Dean stares at him, untrusting. Obviously Benny doesn’t like this guy. There’s probably a good reason for that.

Cas doesn’t seem to mind being ignored, “So you’re new here? Are you joining Benny’s family?”

Okay, looks like everyone knows that Benny and Sam are foster kids. At least he doesn’t appear to be judging.

He quirks an eyebrow up, “Hey, whatever Benny said about me, he’s just being dramatic. We fought over a girl sophomore year, and he’s yet to get over it.”

Dean bites his lip, “Okay.”

“So how come you’re sitting here all alone?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Cas smiles, “I saw you sitting here, I thought I’d come keep you company.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re cute.”

Dean cringes. Sure, Cas is a hottie and a half, but that don’t mean Dean just gets to have him. He’s not exactly a blushing virgin, as it were, and pretty soon he’s gonna be blown up like a balloon in the midsection. There’s no way he’s getting into anything now. Besides, the last thing he needs is to get attached only to leave again in a few weeks.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make things awkward. Hey, wanna go get lunch with me? Food here sucks, and I’m famished.”

Dean frowns, “I thought we weren’t allowed to leave campus.”

He smirks, “We’re not.”

Well, Dean could stand to get the hell out of here. Besides, going to get lunch with Cas isn’t the same thing as flirting with him. Dean’s not even hungry, but maybe a ride will help him clear his head for the rest of the day. Bobby probably wouldn’t like it, but then again, what’s Bobby gonna matter in a few weeks?

“Okay.” he says.

They sneak out to the parking lot, where Cas has an ugly ass Honda parked by the exit. As soon as they get on the road, the speedometer reads 70, buildings and houses blurring past in a rush. Dean doesn’t mind. There are worse things in life than car crashes.

“Sorry, hope the speeding doesn’t freak you out,” Cas mutters sincerely.

“It doesn’t.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Not hungry.”

“Psh, nonsense. We’ll go get burgers. You eat burgers?”

Burgers? Yeah, they’re only Dean’s favorite damn food.

“I don’t think I have enough money.” he says truthfully, because five bucks realistically won’t get you a very good burger.

“On me! C’mon you didn’t think I’d invite you on a date and make you pay for yourself did you?”

“This isn’t a date,” Dean growls.

“Okay, sure it isn’t. But I’m still buying.”

They reach the restaurant and Dean figures there’s no point in turning down free food. Cas orders them both a burger and fries, but Dean opts out of a soda and takes water. The doctor Missouri had brought him to -was it Dr. Bradbury?- said too much sugar and caffeine isn’t good for the kid.

“Thanks,” he says to Cas as they sit down with their food.

Cas smiles, “Hey, no problem. Burgers are a good icebreaker. So, where you from?”

“Originally?”

“How many times have you moved?”

Dean whistles, “Long list.”

“Okay, let’s forget that then. What do you like to do?”

Honestly? Dean doesn’t know. When the hell has he ever gotten a chance to explore hobbies? He’s spent the majority of his life cowering in fear and fighting to survive. He didn’t exactly have time to fit bowling and hockey in there.

“I like music,” he says lamely.

“Me too! Who do you like?”

“Mostly old stuff,” he admits, a little embarrassed, “my uh…” he clears his throat, “My mom had a bunch of these old records she’d always play. I kinda grew up with old music. Zepp, Kansas, Beatles, y’know the cliche crap.”

“Nice,” Cas appraises, “your mom _had?_ As in past tense?”

Dean picks a fry up and studies it’s crispy edges diligently, “She passed away.”

Cas nods, eyes serious but not judgemental, “And your dad?”

Blowing his breath out, Dean eyes Cas suspiciously, “Why do you care?”

Cas frowns, “I’m curious about you. I’d like to get to know you.”

“Why?”

“I want to be friends?” Cas says it almost like a question, as if it’s obvious. Granted, to someone else, it probably is; Dean’s not exactly your average teenager, is he?

“Oh.”

“So I’m guessing your dad is a touchy subject.”

Dean cringes. Sure, if _touchy_ means every time Dean thinks about him vivid memories of harsh beatings and endless agony resource, then yeah, he’s touchy.

“Sorta.”

“I getcha. Mine is too.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Well, I mean, I _think_ he is. I don’t really technically know him. He left when I was just a kid. He was a priest, so he wasn’t really allowed to fornicate and have kids anyway. My mom...she was totally a secret, and then when she got pregnant with me, so was I. I was a complete mistake. He kept our relationship a secret from everyone until my fifth birthday when I accidentally called him “dad” in front of our neighbors. He left town, so me and my mom did too, afterwards. But, you know, we went different directions. Me and my mom came up here. He’s probably partying it up somewhere, enjoying his freedom.” he scowls; the expression looks unfitting on him.

Dean’s eyebrows are nearly at his hairline by the time Cas finishes his story. He’s surprised at how willing the other boy is to share such personal, intimate details from his life. Dean isn’t really sure what to say.

“Um, if it makes you feel any better,” Dean manages lamely, “I don’t think you’re a mistake. And that guy sounds like an asshole.”

Cas is smiling again, “Thanks Dean! So, what prompted your move-in with Benny?”

Dean looks down at his half-eaten food, trying to ignore the swirling in his gut that’s telling him eating so quickly was a poor choice. He swallows back bile hard, cringing, “My uh last family and I had some...disagreements.”

Cas tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes and scrunching up his nose in scrutiny, “You alright Dean? You look a little green around the gills.”

That does it. Dean’s chair screeches back with a halting noise and he sprints across the restaurant towards the bathroom, shoving through and collapsing into a stall. He heaves harshly, emptying his stomach of everything he’s eaten today, which is more than he’s used to.

“Holy shit,” Cas is behind him now, kneeling down and placing a hand on his lower back.

“Don’t touch me!” Dean growls, before bowing down to vomit again.

Cas’ hand dissapears, but his voice persists, “Are you sick? Was it the food? What’s going on?”

“M’fine,” he gasps, spitting roughly as the worst of the puking seems to taper off.

“ _Fine?_!” Dean looks back to see Cas’ large blue eyes bugging out of his head, “You just yacked your guts out! I should bring you home.”

“No!” the last place Dean wants to be right now is where Benny and Bobby and Sam are. He wants to stay out all night. He won’t be able to stand Bobby scolding him for missing class, which he surely is, as their lunch has already taken up an hour and a half, at least. He won’t be able to take Benny’s disgust at Dean associating with Cas. He’s not gonna be a nuisance and a burden much longer either way, so why should he go home and make them waste their breath? He’ll wait until late at night when they’re asleep or too tired to have the energy to give a shit about their little delinquent pet.

“No?” Cas demands, “you’re sick, we need to-”

“I’m not sick,” he snaps, “I’m-I’m- good, it’s fine Castiel, don’t freak out.”

“Then would you just explain-”

“I’m pregnant,” Dean confesses in a monotone voice, “okay? I’m pregnant, not sick.”

Before Cas can call him a trashy slut and leave him in a public restroom to puke and cry to his heart’s content, someone knocks lightly on the bathroom door and an employee asks, “is everything alright in there?”

“Fine!” Cas calls back in a composed voice, “my friend is getting sick, could I have an empty box or something please?”

“Sure!” the employee's scampering footsteps disappear, and Dean turns to Cas in confusion.

“I don’t want you tossing your cookies all over my leather seats,” Cas insists innocently, “So if you’re gonna projectile, aim for the box, okay?”

All over his...wait, Cas is gonna give him a ride home still? He’s not disgusted with Dean? Maybe he is. Maybe he just has a good poker face. He’s probably writhing inside with judgement and horror that Dean hadn’t warned him sooner. Before he wasted money and time on him.

The employee returns with an empty to-go box and passes it to Cas, giving Dean a sympathetic smile as she hurries back to work. Cas flushes the toilet and wraps an arm around Dean’s waist before he can do anything. He helps the smaller boy to his feet and hands Dean the box, who clutches it to his chest like a lifeline as Cas guides him out of the restaurant and lowers him into the passenger seat. Cas gets behind the wheel and starts the car. Dean isn’t sure where they’re going, but it doesn’t look too familiar yet.

After an agonizing five minute silence, Dean pipes up, “I’m sorry.”

Cas’ brows crease, “For getting sick? Well it’s not your fault, happens to a lot of people, I hear.”

“That’s...well, not really what I meant.” he admits in a more hesitant voice. His frown somehow deepens, “I don’t follow you.”

Dean refrains from groaning. He can’t believe Cas is gonna make him say it, “You know...about...being…” he cringes, and decides to rephrase, “my _situation._ ”

Cas bites his lip, glancing quickly towards Dean and then back to the road. The speedometer spikes higher, if that’s even possible at this point, “Dean you don’t have to apologize. I just…” he laughs nervously, “kinda would’ve liked to know that you were taken. I mean, I know you said it wasn’t a date and all but I thought you were being coy, I feel so embarrassed for flirting-”

Dean cuts him off shamefully, “Um, I’m not... _taken_.”

The speedometer inches higher, “What?”

Dean winces, “I’m not...with...the father...it was a one time thing. I...um...I don’t even know his name.”

He’s not lying, he’d met the father once at a trashy party an acquaintance was throwing. They’d hit it off, drunkenly, and fucked one time in the bathroom. Not exactly a fairy tale romance.

Cas’ head cocks sideways again, “So...you’re single?”

Dean frowns, “I don’t see why _that_ matters, but yeah.”

Cas’ grin returns just as quickly as it had been swiped away, “Oh! Well thank god. I feel less stupid now. Okay, well, cool.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Dean responds “But...that’s not why I’m apologizing. I’m apologizing for-”

“Dean, it doesn’t matter that you’re pregnant.”

Dean’s jaw falls slack, and the words fall out before he can control himself, “What are you, desperate or something?”

Castiel laughs once, “Not to be cocky Dean, but look at me. Do you think I’m desperate?”

“No.” and he means it, Cas looks like a centerfold. Lean, muscled body, dazzling eyes, glistening dark hair that falls just right on his tanned skin...everything you could want.

“Exactly.” Cas smirks.

“Then...you have low standards?”

“Why would you say that?”

“I’m just trying to figure this out,” Dean defends himself.

“Figure what out? Why I like you?”

“Uh, _yeah._ ” he replies matter-of-factly.

“I already told you, I think you’re cute. And you seem kind of fantastic.”

Dean shakes his head, “You don’t even know me. Plus, I’m damaged goods.”

Cas scoffs, expression hardening, “ _damaged goods_ ,” he mutters, “You’re not a product Dean.”

Dean crosses his arms, “this is stupid.”

“You don’t have to be so cold,” Cas says, but he’s smiling.

“Is this funny to you?” Dean demands.

“I’m not laughing.”

“We’re not... _this_ ,” Dean gestures between him and Cas, making them a unit, “is not gonna happen Castiel.”

“So what? I can’t be your friend?”

“I’m pregnant!”

“Wait, I can’t be friends with pregnant people?”

Dean groans, “There are... _implications_ Cas. People are gonna stare and make comments and laugh at you and-”

“ _So_?”

Dean curls his lip up, annoyed with Cas’ blatant disregard for his concerns, “When you off yourself from the bullying, it’s gonna be on my conscience. I got more important stuff to worry about.”

“Dean, you gotta slow down.” Cas insists, “you probably know better than I do that we can’t rush into anything here. I’m not gonna get lynched for being your friend, I promise.”

Dean feels his hands clench into fists, “and when people start to notice that I’ve got a bun in the oven? I’m not bringing you down with me dude, I even plan on avoiding Benny and especially Sam.”

Cas frowns, “Why do you think everyone’s out to get you?”

_Uh, duh, cause they usually are._

“Where are we going?” Dean redirects the conversation, eyes on the unfamiliar surroundings, a slight concern that he’s about to be kidnapped and murdered entering his mind. Shit, where did his caution go? Why the hell has Cas made him completely forget his personal guidelines for safety and trust? If it had been anyone else...he’d never be dumb enough to get in their car. God, how has he been so reckless today? And why does he feel like he knows Cas better than he really does?

Cas keeps his eyes on the road as he responds, “Back to my place. You said you didn’t wanna go home, but I don’t want you up on your feet if you aren’t feeling well.”

Dean gnaws on the inside of his mouth, “Your place?” He doesn’t like the sound of that, but for some reason, he isn’t nervous. He should be. He forces himself to remain cautious.

“Don’t worry,” is all Cas replies, and Dean feels his worry melt away. What the fuck?

They reach Castiel’s house shortly after. It’s a white, cape-cod style one-story, with cute little green shutters and gray trim. There are flower beds out front on the perfectly mowed grass, and Dean can see over the back fence that there’s an above ground pool pool and a fancy gazebo.

“Nice place,” he comments sincerely. It certainly doesn't look like a murder den.

“Thanks,” Cas smiles, “my mom’s a lawyer so she’s done pretty well for us.”

Dean pales, “She’s uh...is she home right now?”

Cas chuckles, “No, she’d kill me for ditching class, she probably won’t be back until midnight tonight, if that. C’mon, let’s go inside, it’s gonna start raining again.”

They quickly shuffle inside, where Dean tosses the to-go-box in the trash and they head down the hall to Cas’ room. It’s nice, painted dark blue with albums and books stacked across shelves. The double bed lacks a bed frame, laying comfortably on the gray carpet with mismatched blankets and sheets strewn across it. The flat screen TV hanging from the wall has a DVD player hooked up to it, with a couple open DVD cases scattered on the rug. It smells like cinnamon, and the entire room has a cozy, warm feeling to it.

Dean inhales deeply, “Candles?”

“Incense,” Cas replies, smiling shyly, “I have a thing about smelling good.”

Dean mutters, “Clearly.” then louder, “What movie were you watching?”

His face perks up at the mention of the movies, “ _Pulp Fiction_. You like that one?”

“Never seen it.”

“What?” Cas demands, “Unacceptable. Take a seat, we’re watching it.”

Without giving Dean much room to argue, Cas moves across the room to put the movie in. Dean sits down carefully on the bed, leaning into the pillows comfortably, relishing in the scent of the sheets. They smell crisp, sharp and clean, much like Cas.

Cas moves and plops down beside Dean, eyes on the screen eagerly, “This is like, the best movie ever.”

Dean feels his lips tilting up in a small smile, “How can you even know that?”

Cas scoffs, “Trust me, you’ll think so too in two hours.”

“What kind movie is two hours long?” Dean demands.

“The good kind, now hush up, it’s starting.”

Dean settles in for a long ass movie, and tries to pay attention to the story. All he can focus on though, is Castiel’s soft breathing beside him. He glances inconspicuously to his left, Cas is staring straight ahead at the TV, eyes forward as if he’s never seen it before. His pin straight nose is sharp against his surroundings, and Dean finds himself admiring how perfect Castiel’s profile is. It’s so unreal that a creature this beautiful wants to spend time with Dean. He licks his lips, and a tremble runs through Dean’s body.

Cas turns sideways at this, “are you cold?”

“Oh- uh no I’m fine.”

Cas doesn't seem to believe him, so he reaches down and pulls the comforter up over both of them. Warmth envelopes Dean from both the blankets, and the close proximity of Cas’ body. He swallows hard. The movie rolls on.

When it’s finished, Dean realizes he barely even knows what happened. There was a lot of blood and gore. Cas seemed to enjoy those parts the most. Cas asks if he wants to watch another movie, and Dean quickly says yes, desperate to preserve the comfort and closeness of Castiel right beside him. Cas replaces the movie with another one by the same director, and climbs back under the cover. About halfway through this one though, he seems to notice Dean isn’t paying attention.

“Dean? Why are you staring at me?”

Shit, was it that obvious?

Dean quickly snaps his head forward, “I wasn’t.”

Cas frowns, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes Cas.”

The blue-eyed boy moves in a bit closer, their noses a mere inch apart, “Are you sure?” he whispers, eyes meeting Dean’s.

Dean isn’t sure who leans in first. It’s lost on him completely, as is everything else, when he feels Castiel’s lips tentatively brush his. Then, with approval, the kiss deepens, and his tongue slides into Dean’s mouth. Dean moans into the kiss; Castiel tastes like coconut chapstick and Mentos. His hands are sliding up Dean’s sides, and Dean’s are knotting in his hair as their chests pressed together. God, he hasn’t kissed someone like this in forever, in so long...maybe not _ever_.

“Cas,” he gasps against the other boy’s lips.

“Dean,” comes the breathless response.

The kiss breaks off after a few more moments of passionate entanglement. Dean’s hands fall from Cas’ hair, breathing slowly returning to normal, eyes clearing. Cas licks his lips, eyeing Dean up and down.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, ashamed, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay Cas,” Dean assures him softly, though every fiber of his being screams that it is not okay, “We both...that was both of us.”

Cas clears his throat, “But I shouldn’t be- you, clearly aren’t interested in-”

“It’s okay,” Dean repeats, “it was just a kiss Cas.”

Castiel looks down at his own hands, folded in his lap, and nods a few times, “Yeah. Yeah, no you’re right. We good?”

“Yeah, completely. Thanks...thanks for being so cool to me Cas. About everything.”

Cas is smiling again, “Of course Dean.” then, he glances at the digital clock on his DVD player, “Whoa! Is it that late already? I oughtta get you home Dean, your family will be worried.”

Those aren’t words he’s used to hearing, but right now, all he can muster is, “okay.”

They slowly detangle themselves from Castiel’s blankets and head out to the car. It’s dark outside now, freezing cold. Cas shrugs out of his jacket and slings it over Dean’s shoulders, who’s shivering like no tomorrow. Dean glances up at him, but Cas just smiles without explanation and holds open the passenger door for him.

They reach Bobby’s at around 9:30, and Dean hesitates in the idling car, “Cas...thank you so much, for today. For everything really.”

Cas is nodding, a smile on his face, “No problem Dean. Will I see you tomorrow?”

Dean knows the smart thing to do is cut this off right now, tell Cas they can’t ever see each other again. It’s the smart thing, it’s the safe thing, it’s the right thing. For both of them.

But he’s a selfish bastard, so he says, “Sure.”

Cas waits until Dean has reached the front door to pull away down the street. Dean moves to open the door, but is beat by Bobby, yanking it open and staring down at him.

“Oh!” the man manages breathlessly, “You’re okay!”

Dean’s following _‘huh?’_ is stifled by the hug that envelopes him. His face buried in Bobby’s plaid shirt, he can only mumble in confusion as Bobby smothers him.

“Where the hell were you?” demands a much angrier voice from behind them. Bobby releases Dean, who looks around him at Benny. But, as soon as Benny sees Dean, his eyes widen furiously. “That’s Novak’s jacket!” he growls, jerking his finger angrily at the letterman coat Cas had loaned Dean, “you were with Castiel?!”

Dean internally curses himself for not having given Cas back the jacket, “He’s-”

“A total asshole! And you ditched school with him!” Benny roars, “we thought you were dead, or you ran away or something! But no, you were off with Novak, probably fucking him!”

“Hey!” Bobby snaps, turning towards his son, “Benny how dare you?”

“You know it’s true Dad!” Benny replies angrily, “That’s what Novak does, he’s a total jerk.” Benny turns to Dean with a nasty glare, “and Dean apparently doesn’t show discretion with who he gives it away to.”

A sharp breath escapes Dean’s lips as hurt washes over his body. What the hell is Benny’s problem?

“That’s enough Benjamin Lafitte!” Bobby scolds the larger boy, “I’m sure there’s an explanation for this. You shut your mouth right now.”

“No, no,” Dean growls, “let him finish. What were you gonna say Benny? Huh? That I’m just a useless slut? _Oh look at the knocked up foster kid, he’ll fuck anyone who gives him the time of day_!” a slight feeling of vertigo overwhelms him, but he stands his ground, furious with this stupid douche, who’s made his brief stay here nothing but hell and confusion.

Benny’s eyes soften, “God, Dean that’s not what I-”

“Oh, no! Don’t spare my feelings,” Dean spits, completely fed up and totally oblivious to the spew of idiocy pouring out of his agitated mouth, not even noticing that they’re all standing on the porch at 10 PM screaming at each other. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s done that, “I know you don’t want me here, me and this kid are just a nuisance for you, a fuckin’ burden. Well, worry no more! Because I’m done!” he whirls around to clomp down the stairs, only to be wracked with another wave of dizziness. He stumbles once towards the stairs, black spots dancing across his vision.

“Dean?” Bobby asks worriedly.

“I’m _fine_!” he growls furiously, before his knees give out and he collapses on to the porch, eyesight absorbed with darkness.

* * *

 

_“Where the hell is that boy?”_

_Dean cowers down behind his clothing, stacked in his closet. Luckily, at eleven, he’s still small enough to be able to fit in small spaces like this. Makes hiding from his father much more convenient. His skin is soaked with sweat, breathing uneven and frantic. His bruised up hands tremble as he tucks them into his chest, tears coursing down his face as visions of his mother roam across his mind. She'd protect him if she were still here. She'd be beside him. She'd save him._

_But she isn't._

_Loud work boots stomp their way into Dean’s room, the door slamming open loudly._

_Thud...Thud...Thud..._

 

_Dean flinches, curling more behind his clothes, fighting the whimper that desperately wants to escape his trembling lips. The shadow of boots appears below the closet door, “Well, what do we have here?” a drunken voice snarls, “little boy thinks he can hide from his daddy.”_

_His heartbeat speeds up rapidly, nausea filling his throat. The closet doors swing open, and his father reaches in to push the clothes masking Dean aside. The invasive smell of whiskey and dirt nauseates Dean._

_“You’ve been a bad boy Dean,” his father growls, clenching his fist so hard his knuckles pop loudly, "you're going to be punished.”_

* * *

 

“Dean? Baby? It’s me Missouri, can you talk to me honey?”

Dean groans. His eyelids are made of lead, his head pounding with a dull ache, entire body feeling like he’d just been rammed by a truck. Keeping his eyes scrunched shut, he manages to weakly get out, “Missouri?”

There’s a relieved sigh, “hey there sweetpea.”

He forces his eyes open, seeing Missouri’s familiar, wrinkled face, and another person that he doesn’t recognize. She’s wearing a white lab coat. Doctor, he presumes. Which would explain why he’s laying on his back in a flat, twin bed, and he’s wearing one of those ugly ass hospital gowns.

“Hospital?” is all he can muster.

“He should be alright,” the lady in white murmurs to Missouri, “this is very common. He’s so young though, and he hit his head pretty rough, I wanna keep him overnight just to make sure things stay this well.”

“Thank you doctor,” Missouri replies, and the lady in white disappears. “Sweetpea? You with me?”

Dean nods once, though he’s confused as all hell, “ _Whuh happened_?” he slurs out tiredly.

She chuckles once, running a soft, slow hand through his damp hair, “every word outta your mouth is a question, you know that honey?”

“Missouri...”

She sighs quietly, “You’re alright honey. Just a pregnancy symptom. You passed out for a little bit.”

“How long?”

“Just a few minutes, but you were very out of it for a while. Then you fell asleep and we didn’t want to wake you. You slept through the night.”

Dean vaguely remembers fighting with someone and then having a horrific memory of his time with his father, “did I get in a fight with Benny?”

Missouri’s face softens, “Yes baby. There’s a bruise on your temple here, doc says it could be from the fall but...did they hurt you Dean?”

Dean’s eyes snap open wide now, alert. He moves to sit up, but Missouri gently shoves him back down. He quickly churns out his reply, “no! No Missouri, they didn’t hurt me, I swear, I promise! Please don’t- god they’ve been so fucking good to me and now I ruined it, just like I always do.” he closes his eyes again and slams his fist against the metal bed rail, “Fuck!”

“Calm down baby doll,” Missouri shushes him softly, rubbing her fingers soothingly over his fist until it smooths into an open palm, “you didn’t ruin anything love.”

“Where am I going now?” he demands, feeling a sharp ache in his chest at the thought of saying goodbye to his new life. Bobby’s breakfast, Benny’s douchey teenage boy routine, Sam’s innocence...Castiel’s lips.

“What do you mean doll? They still want you.”

His eyes reopen, and he frowns wildly, “What?”

“Dean they brought you in here to the ER worried sick. Benny, sweet boy, was in hysterics, saying it was his fault you went down. ‘Course doc assured him that fainting spells are normal during pregnancy, especially when you’re under a lot of stress, but they were all worried sick. Last I checked, the three of ‘em were still out there in the waiting room. Been there all night. Sam went to school I think, but he'd been up my butt for hours trying to see if you were okay. I think Bobby and the other one are waiting still.”

Dean stares at her uncomprehendingly, “They’re...still here? They...why?”

“Because they care about you sweetie, and they want to make sure you and the baby are okay.”

Hesitantly, Dean asks, “.. _.is_ the baby okay?”

She nods, smiling now, “Oh yes, little babe is doing just fine. Doc says everything looks great, except you need to start gaining a bit more weight and cut back on the stress. I told her it was a staple of your personality. She said to cut back anyway.”

Dean laughs once without humor at how true Missouri’s words really are, “I’ll try I guess. Um...can I see Benny and Bobby? I need to apologize.”

“You sure you’re up for that honey?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll bring them in.” she gets up from her bedside seat and heads out.

Dean takes the alone time to pull himself into a sitting position, with a groan. He must’ve really hit the porch hard, his entire body is sore and stiff. His mind is foggy and cloudy, he’s not used to sleeping so long. Luckily, someone thought to put a cup of water beside his bed. He chugs it down gratefully, feeling the cool liquid relax his throat. There’s a soft knock on the door.

“It’s open,” he calls weakly.

Tentatively, Bobby peeks around the corner. Relief is visible on his face, “Dean.” he breathes, “look atcha, sittin’ up and everything. That’s good kiddo, real good. How you feelin? They said you got some sleep.”

Dean nods, “I’m fine Bobby. You guys can come in.”

Slowly, the two men enter. Bobby in front, Benny behind him. His expression is exhausted, bags under his guilt-ridden eyes, mouth pressed into a tight line.

“Benny I’m so-” Dean starts, but he’s cut off.

“No Dean, don’t apologize. I’m sorry,” Benny shakes his head, “those things I said...they were awful. You don’t deserve that. I’ve been nothin’ but a jackass since you got here, and I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Dean moans, “please don’t apologize Benny, god, fuck, you guys have been so fuckin’ unreal to me.” he rubs at his face, cringing, “I...I don’t deserve you. I’m so-”

“Hey now,” Bobby halts him, “you deserve love and care Dean.”

Dean looks down at his pale, scarred up hands resting on his lap, “says who?”

He’d meant it rhetorically, but Benny answers seriously, “We do. And it’s true Dean.”

Benny hesitates, then steps forward and sets his hand over Dean’s. Their eyes meet, and Dean sees something unfamiliar in the other boy’s eyes. Sincerity doesn’t really seem like Benny’s style, but there it is, brightening his gaze as he speaks, “look...I know what it’s like. Bouncing around from home to home, thinking you’re just a burden, a place holder until the next kid comes along, being terrified of…” he winces, “getting hurt. But...it can change for you Dean, I promise. We can live long, happy lives, who says we shouldn’t? Bobby can give that to us. Happiness...safety…” he shakes his head, “it’s not as impossible as it seems right now, I promise.”

Benny’s words carve into Dean’s chest, hacking deeper with each phrase. Happiness...safety...maybe it _is_ possible. Hell, Benny wouldn’t be lying about it, would he? And Dean’s seen him in the house, interacting with Benny and Sam. It’s like...it’s like they’re a normal, happy family. Maybe Dean really can have that.

But, he’s himself, so all he replies is, “Maybe for you.”

Benny’s brows crease, “Please let us help you Dean. Think about the baby.”

Dean moves his hands out from under Benny’s, smoothing his palms over his forehead, huffing his breath out, “what do you mean?”

“Don’t you want the baby to live in one place? You don’t want it bouncin’ around the foster system like you did, do you? Bobby can give the baby a good life.”

Dean bites his lip, “Just because I want it doesn’t mean it’ll come true. How do I know this won’t go wrong in a few months? How do I know I won’t fuck it up like I always-”

“Because no matter what, we’re gonna be here for you.” Bobby puts in, eyes warm, “we’re still here for you after last night. We know it ain’t gonna be an easy ride, but we’re willing to take it the whole way.”

“Why?” Dean demands, “why the fuck would you do that for some slutty street kid?”

“You’re not a _slut_ ,” Benny growls, eyes darkening with Dean’s words, “you need to give yourself more credit. Everyone deserves a chance. You _and_ your baby.”

Dean lets out a slow breath, not meeting Benny’s eyes, “I...I want this.” he whispers, feeling his eyes slip shut, lashes brushing his cheeks as tears threaten upon them, “I want it _so_ bad.”

“You can have it,” Bobby’s gruff voice responds, “it’ll be alright Dean...just let us take care of you.”

A tear spills out over his cheekbone. He quickly wipes at his face.

“Let us take care of you.” Benny repeats Bobby’s words. H

e opens his watery eyes, finally looking at them both, and forcing the single word out, despite the fact that every fiber in his body rebels against it’s escape.

“Okay.”


	3. Soul to Squeeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! Hope you like it!  
> WARNINGS: panic attack, self loathing, mentions of abuse, general adult content. Pretty sure that's it. 
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! More soon if you want :)

**SEPTEMBER**

Dean turns sideways, facing the mirror with a curious frown on his face. He pulls harder on his pants, willing the two flaps that connect the buttons to yank together. A ferocious look of concentration plastered across his face, he squeezes harder, frown deepening tremendously when his efforts prove futile. He rolls his black t-shirt up to study his torso dubiously. It appears as though his middle has begun to jut out considerably in the past few weeks.

Huh.

When was the last time he was too big for his pants? Living a life where you scrounge for food on a daily basis doesn’t exactly expand one’s waistline. Unsure of what to do, he tries once more to button the jeans. Yet again, it appears to be an exercise in futility.

“Uh, Bobby?” he calls somewhat reluctantly.

Footsteps thud up the stairs, and Bobby pokes his head into Dean’s room, “What’s up?”

He scratches his neck, face flushed red, “Um...my pants don’t fit?” it comes out awkwardly, sounding more like a question than a statement.

Bobby’s scruffy brows arch upward, his eyes widening ever so slightly, “Oh!” he says, looking a little surprised, “Well, that’s good Dean. Dr. Bradbury said you needed to get up there on the scale. Baby’s growing pretty good, it seems. I was wondering when you were gonna need some new pants.”

Dean nods a few times, “uh yeah yeah, but…” he grimaces, “what am I supposed to wear to school today?”

“Oh!” the older man repeats, and it’s his turn to blush, “didn’t even cross my mind kid, think you could manage a pair of sweats today? And we’ll get you some new jeans today after your appointment with Ellen?”

“Thanks Bobby.”

The man nods with a smile and disappears downstairs. Dean discards the too-small jeans and rummages through the drawers he’s come to know as his own in the past six weeks. He slides into a pair of dark gray sweats and pulls his sweatshirt around his shoulders, keeping it unzipped. It probably won't stretch flatteringly over his rounded belly.

At the sixteen week mark, Dean’s really started to show. The weather’s started to get colder, so it’s been relatively easy to hide his growing middle with layers of thick clothing, but at this point, it’s pretty obvious what’s going on with his midsection.

Cas doesn’t seem to mind. He’s come up with a lot of affectionate -AKA annoying as fuck- code names for Dean as of late. Some of Dean’s least favorites include: _bomb belly_ , and _mama bear_. Very obnoxious. Though, he’s immensely grateful for Cas either way. Despite Dean shakily telling him that they could be no more than friends -if that, even- Cas had quickly bounced into a comfortable routine of platonic behavior, and he’s turning out to be Dean’s best friend. He’s never had one of those before. He kinda really likes it. And he doesn’t care how hot and funny and sweet and absolutely perfect Cas is, he isn’t gonna mess this up by kissing him again or anything like that.

Now that he’s been with Bobby for a while, doing something to screw it up would be a death sentence. His sanity has always hung in the balance, but now more than ever. He’s had a taste of what his life could be, and he’s not gonna do a damn thing to rock the boat. Things with Benny and Sam have been good too. Sam’s a diligent little helper, always offering up tips to relieve the worst of Dean’s pregnancy symptoms. Now that the morning sickness has started to teeter off to a safety zone, he’s been getting into home remedies for round ligament pain. Dean’s not complaining, the kid treats him like royalty. Benny and Dean have been getting along well too, as brothers should. Their relationship is polite and courteous, if not a little fragile. Dean doesn’t care, same as with Cas, he’s not gonna step out of line and mess anything up. Things will get easier the longer he’s here. Or so he hopes.

Bobby’s narrow staircase is sorta becoming a bitch now that his center of balance has shifted all to his middle, but he’s managing. There’s a sturdy railing that helps him along down to the kitchen, where he sets his bag by the doorframe and sits across from Benny for breakfast and his vitamin. It’s all very routine at this point, and he’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Something is gonna tip the scale, and he knows that. Eventually, sooner or later, something's gonna happen and all this good is gonna go away. Well, until then, he’s basking in it. He deserves a few months of bliss.

“So,” Benny greets him with a sly grin, “I hear you’ve outgrown your pants.”

Dean snorts, taking a bite of the pancakes placed in front of him, “Yeah, and I’m carrying _life_ , what’s your excuse?”

Benny scoffs, flexing his extremely thick, muscled arm, “try again punk, the only thing I’m outgrowing is my weights.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “And we’re _all_ outgrowing the gun show.”

After breakfast, they all load into Benny’s truck, heading down for school. Dean’s been studying up for his permit test, and Bobby says they can go take it whenever he wants. He’s been sorta putting it off, even though he’s pulling straight B’s in school right now -an unbelievable record for him- he’s nervous about the test. He’s not great with high pressure situations, obviously.

When they get to school, Sam heads off to meet up with his friends while Dean and Benny find themselves in the courtyard under one of the overhangs, keeping safe from the rainy New York weather. Benny tells Dean about his plans to ask a girl in his fifth hour to homecoming. Dean helps him brainstorm some creative ways to ask her, but they settle on the traditional poster and bouquet. Benny says she’ll like that, she’s subtle.

Their musings are interrupted by a familiar, gravelly voice saying, “G’morning Mama Bear!”

Dean sighs and Benny inquires under his breath, “Want me to punch him?”

Rolling his eyes, the pregnant half responds, “That won’t be necessary. Morning Cas.”

Cas takes a seat on Dean’s other side, grinning at Benny, “And hello to you Benjamin.”

Benny scowls, “Novak.”

Dean refrains from cringing; so Cas and Benny’s relationship is still incredibly rocky. Whenever he asks, they insist it’s just the rivalry from sophomore year, but Dean thinks there’s something else there. Maybe they just don’t mesh well. He has no idea how they tolerate being on the same football team, since they make no effort to hide their dislike for one another. It kinda warms his heart a little that they’re willing to put up with each other for him, but he doesn’t read too much into that.

“You coming to the game tonight?” Cas asks Dean excitedly.

He finds himself smiling at the fact that Cas even has to ask. Dean’s been to every game so far this year, both of his closest friends are on the team, of course he has. Fuck, he’d never have imagined that this would be his life, “Of course I am Cas. I just gotta….run a few errands first.”

Cas’ eyes wander down to Dean’s middle, and a small smile begins to spread across his face, “Are you going to buy maternity jeans?”

“Uh-oh,” Benny mutters, “big mistake there Novak.”

Cas’ face is confused for half a second at Benny’s words, then Dean growls, “they’re not maternity pants! They’re-they’re- they- they’re stretchy! I- they’re not- God Cas!”

“What the hell just happened?” Cas demands, staring at Dean like he’s lost his mind.

“Dean has banned the use of the word ‘maternity’,” Benny informs him, looking rather smug, “or didn’t you know that?”

Cas frowns deeply, “Why Dean? There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Dean’s face burns crimson, and he’s about to scream that Cas needs to shut up immediately, but he’s saved by the bell. He shoots to his feet and heads away from his friends towards the stairs.

* * *

 

“So Dean,” Ellen says, eyeing him carefully as he enters and takes his seat across from her on the couch, “looks like your pregnancy is progressing well?”

Dean nods shortly; he’s still having trouble opening up to Ellen. Though he’s shared a few of his feelings over the span of the past six weeks, he’s not exactly comfortable giving her all his intimate details.

“Yup. Dr. Bradbury says baby is perfectly healthy.”

“How’ve you been feeling?”

 

“A lot better since the morning sickness started to ease up.” he admits, but he gestures to his sweatpants, “Even though I’m outgrowing my jeans.”

Ellen’s mouth quirks up in a smile, “that’ll happen. I assume Bobby is going to buy you some maternity clothes?”

Dean cringes, “Yes he’s buying me stretchy pants.”

She arches an eyebrow, “Does the word maternity make you uncomfortable?”

He grimaces, “No.”

Wisely ignoring this, she segues into a different topic, “How are things going with Castiel and Benny?”

It makes Dean want to scream when she combines them into one conversation, since they’re each such complex and confusing topics, but he answers anyway, “They’re fine.”

“Has Castiel made any advances?”

“No Ellen, he’s fine with just being my friend.”

“And what about Benny?”

“What about him?”

“Well, is he still alright with you and Castiel being friends?”

“It’s none of his damn business,” Dean growls, before sighing, “he’s fine.”

Ellen watches him carefully, then speaks in a low voice, “do you think you’re ready to talk about your father?”

Dean’s jaw locks, and he smooths a hand over his outstretched stomach, “I don’t see why that matters at all.”

“Dean, do you want to be a good father?”

He eyes her darkly, “Yes.”

“Are you going to treat your baby right?”

“Of course.” he snaps.

“You’re not going to be like your father, right?”

“No! Why the fuck would you ask me that?”

“I think it’ll be easier to move past this, and not make the same mistakes if we talk about him Dean. It’s okay to tell me, I’m not going to hurt you. I only want to help you.”

“Don’t bother,” Dean scowls, “I’m with Bobby now, why does he even matter?”

“When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?” Ellen challenges, eyes hard, “no bad dreams, no tossing and turning, just a long rest?”

He crosses his arms again, grinding his teeth together, “I sleep fine.” he lies.

“Dean-”

“I don’t want to talk about him!” his voice comes out as a half-scream, “I don’t want to think about him, I don’t want to even remind myself that he exists! I have a new family now, so let’s just forget he’s fucking alive! I’m sick of being afraid!”

There’s a long moment of silence. They stare at eachother, Dean embarrassed, Ellen scrutinizing. She asks, “Afraid of what?”

He scrubs a hand over his reddened face, “Nothing. Is our time up?”

She sighs softly, even though she knows the time isn't up, “Yeah, you can go. I’ll see you next Friday, Dean.”

* * *

 

Bobby seems to notice something is up on the ride from Ellen’s office to the store. He keeps glancing sideways at Dean, scratching at his wiry beard nervously.

Eventually, he winds the radio volume down and eyes the foster boy in his passenger seat, “Hey Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Ellen make you talk about your dad today?”

Dean’s brows furrow darkly, he’d hoped he was done with this conversation, “She tried.”

“Yeah, she told me before we left. She said you were...uncooperative.”

Dean’s teeth grind together, “Bobby I don’t expect you to-”

“To understand? Believe me Dean, I do.”

He glances at the older man, gnawing on his lip, “Oh?”

“My old man wasn’t exactly father of the year either, kid.”

Fiddling with the zipper on his sweatshirt, Dean mumbles, “he beat you?”

Bobby’s nodding when Dean’s gaze returns to his face, “Ruthlessly too. I’d spill a glass of milk and it’d be a black eye and a bruised rib for me. I’m guessing your pop wasn’t too different?”

Dean swallows the bile in his throat, “Once, I left some dishes in the sink and he…” Dean rests a hand flat over his extended stomach, seeking comfort from his unborn baby’s presence, “it was bad.”

“It’s the little things,” Bobby muses as he drives, “the smallest things will set off people like that. You just gotta remember, that it ain’t your fault.” he shoots Dean a pointed look, “no matter what, nobody deserves to be treated like that.”

Dean crosses his arms, biting the side of his tongue, “you’re doin’ a better job than that dumb shrink.”

Bobby chuckles dryly, “Well, Missouri wants you going to her, and I’m not gonna do anything to lose you kiddo. How about we compromise? You keep going to see Ellen, and be as uncooperative as you want, and you can always talk to me about shit she can’t understand. That sound alright?”

Dean allows himself a small smile, “I guess so.”

“What do you think your dad would say now? If he saw you?”

The teenage boy lets out a low, long breath, running his thin fingers over the stretched skin of his middle, “Probably somethin’ like ‘ _dumb whore went and got himself knocked up. Ain’t surprised. Only hope he’s got someone to put him in his place._ ’” Dean’s voice is trembling by the time he finishes speaking, and he quickly clamps his mouth shut and looks out the window. He doesn’t want Bobby to see the liquid in his eyes.

Bobby’s grip tightens a little on the wheel, “Well, it’s a damn good thing he ain’t gonna see you.”

“Unless he gets custody back.” Dean mutters.

The radio snaps off, and Bobby’s voice is ice cold, “That won’t happen Dean Winchester.”

Dean decides it’s best not to argue with that tone of voice. He settles back into the seat and endures the ride silently.

* * *

 

Football games can be characterized in three ways: loud, overcrowded, and boring as all hell. Make no mistake, Dean can get into a good game every once in a while, but after attending all of his school’s games so far this year -mostly out of obligation, since his best friends are both on the team as linebacker and running back- it’s getting a little old. _Kripke High_ is the undefeated champ of most of the upstate New York high schools, so watching them win over and over again brings nothing refreshing. Nothing enough to keep Dean’s mind from wandering as he sits in the stands, wishing Sam or Bobby had come so he’d have someone to talk to.

He thinks about the conversation with Bobby earlier. Maybe Bobby had been lying just to get Dean to talk, maybe he was being honest, but either way, Dean’s surprised at how easily he’d opened up. He’s never been like that with anyone before; so easily inclined to share his morbid past. Well, ‘cept with Cas, cause the guy has some weird charm about him that makes Dean wanna spill the beans about every secret he’s ever had, but he always keeps it in check around Castiel.

He fiddles with the elastic waistline of his jeans. Upon Bobby’s insistence, they’d gotten a lot of stretchy jeans and a couple of stretchy t-shirts for him. He wishes Bobby didn’t have to spend the money on him, but he’s also completely and totally honored by the fact that Bobby cares enough to buy them. Plus, he’s a lot more comfortable now. He hopes Baby appreciates it too.

Dean’s mind wanders to the baby. He hasn’t really given it much thought since he found out he was knocked up; he’d been a little preoccupied with trying to stay safe. But now that he’s got a moment to just breathe and think, he ponders the possibilities. Will it be a boy or a girl? What will he call it? Where will it sleep? Oh shit, he hasn’t even thought about that. If Bobby does plan on taking care of the kid too, where the fuck is it gonna be holed up? It’s not like he’s got thousands of extra dollars lying around for a crib and nursery. And what about diapers? And holy fuck, formula and stuff? What about clothes and toys?

What the _hell_ is Dean doing? Some dumb, poor foster kid can’t take care of a baby!

His heart is beating rapidly in his chest, and he’s suddenly all too aware of the weight around his middle; it weighs a million pounds. He can't breathe. The students on the stands around him cheer as someone makes a touchdown. The noise is deafening. He quickly scrambles to his feet, and begins stumbling down the bleachers to the bottom row. Someone elbows him in the side as he passes them. He grunts and keeps going, rubbing out the soreness with his palm. He steps in gum and scrapes his sneaker down hard on the pavement as he exits the bleachers.

Chest pounding, blood pumping through his ears and breath coming in rapid pants, he sprints forward. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he runs. Hs exits the stadium, finding himself on a nearby road. He keeps going. The night blurs around him. He can’t remember the last time he’d run this fast. His freakout had come on so suddenly that he hadn’t even had time to get his bearings. He keeps going, because it’s all he can think to do. He’s run away so many times in his life before, that it starts to feel familiar again as soon as he’s gone half a mile.

This is Dean. This is what he does. He panics, he runs away, he rinses, he repeats.

Time blurs with his surroundings as he finds himself reaching the forest line on the side of an unfamiliar highway. He scrambles through the underbrush, finally feeling alone. He leans his forehead against the rough bark of an oak, gasping and panting for air as he runs a hand smoothly over his sweaty middle. He shrugs out of his jacket, leaving him in a long-sleeve, plain black shirt. A bite of cold etches up his body, but he’s sweating too much to replace the jacket over his shoulders. He turns and slides down on his butt against the tree, still panting roughly, a slight wheeze in his throat. Guess running away is little harder with a 4 month pregnant belly attached to your hips. God, he’s so pathetic.

He can only imagine what his dad would say now: _‘lookit that, little whore couldn’t take the heat. Once reality sets in, the cowards run, ain’t that right Dean? And you thought you could be a father.’_

There’s a small sob building up in his throat, mingling with his wheezing breaths as he cranes his neck back to look up at the stars. They dance across the dark sky in a glittery array. They’re kinda beautiful, and probably poetic in some Vonnegut way, but all he can think is that it’s unfair how peaceful the sky is when his insides are a torrent of terror and uncertainty. Why the fuck can’t his life just be easy for once? Why can’t he just chill out and not care about anything? He tries so hard to remain objective and detached, but his stupid fucking feelings always have to ruin everything. He’d known this would happen. For the past six weeks he’s been waiting for the tipping point. For something to go wrong. For him to realize that there’s no way this can work. Well, here he is, sitting in some strange, unfamiliar forest; cold, lost, crying, and too pregnant to do anything to make himself feel better.

The stars seem to be mocking him now.

* * *

 

“I see him! Oh God, he’s here! Dean, Dean!”

The voice rouses Dean from a restless sleep. Even when he opens his eyes, all he can see is the sweep of a flashlight over brown leaves, and two pairs of muddy cleats crunching over the ground.

Someone kneels beside him, “Dean? Can you hear me?” Sounds like a southern accent.

“Benny?” he manages, voice much weaker than he expected.

“Oh God. Hey, it’s me. Can you stand up?”

Dean finds himself nodding, though his whole body feels numb. He unclenches his fingers from where they’re grasping his discarded jacket, and finds that a sharp ache passes through his hands as he does so. A shudder courses through his body as he registers just how cold it is outside.

“Just carry him,” a voice that sounds like it’s been gargling rocks complains, “he can barely move his hand, he won’t be walking.” sounds like Cas.

“Yeah,” Benny replies.

Suddenly, Dean’s not on the forest floor anymore, he’s pressed against Benny’s hard chest, though the bigger boy’s coat makes for a bit more comfort. Cas drapes Dean’s jacket over him as Benny tucks him a little tighter to his chest. They’re moving now, Benny following the flashlight. Dean can’t see anything but the small circle of land illuminated by the light, but he can smell the sweat and mud on both boys. Clearly they haven’t showered or changed since the game.

“Whuh’s happn’n?” he slurs stupidly, angry with himself for being so disoriented when he’s the one who got himself here.

“Dean what happened?” Benny murmurs quietly, “why are you out here in the woods?”

“What time is it?” Dean ignores his question.

“It’s 3 A.M.” Cas responds from in front of them, voice emotionless and businesslike. That worries Dean. He’s usually very animated. What’s wrong with him?

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers feebly, “I’m so-”

“Shh, it’s alright.” Benny soothes him gently, “just keep talkin to me, alright? It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m fine,” Dean insists, which isn’t exactly a lie, his entire body is completely numb, so he’s not in any pain, “I can’t feel anything.”

Cas asks, “Benny how’s he look?”

“Pale and cold, Novak. Blue lips.”

“Here.” they stop moving and there’s a shuffling sound, before another layer of clothing is placed over Dean’s jacket. Must be Castiel’s coat.

“No,” Dean moans quietly, wishing his eyes would adjust to the darkness already, “Cas take that back. You’re gonna get sick.”

They’re moving again, “Don’t worry about me Dean.”

The stoic, almost uncaring tone of his voice makes Dean want to rip his own heart out. He’s probably pushed everyone too far this time. Maybe they’ll actually get rid of his ass for good now. He sure as hell deserves it. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.

“We’re almost to the car, Dean. Hang in there.” Benny’s whispering as they continue to move.

Dean just buries his face in Benny’s chest and tries to ignore the thought of Bobby furiously kicking him out. Now he and the baby are really screwed for sure. So much for hope. The car door Dean’s placed behind doesn’t creak when it’s opened, so he figures they’re in Cas’ Honda rather than Benny’s truck. The seats are smooth, cool, leather. Benny sits beside him with Dean’s head on his lap.

“Novak, he’s not looking too hot, blast that heat.”

The car heater is turned on high, all vents tipped towards the backseat as the car begins speeding toward an unknown destination. “Your place?” Cas asks from the front seat.

“Yeah. And go a little faster this time.”

The rest of the ride is silent.

* * *

 

“Dean! Oh my god, Benny he’s not-”

“He’s alive Bobby, he’s alive. We need to get him inside before he gets hypothermia though.”

“Where’d you find him?”

“Woods out by the I-90.”

“What the hell was he doin’ out there?”

“Dunno. Sam, start the fireplace up and boil some water!”

Dean hears the words being exchanged between Bobby and Benny, but his eyelids are too heavy to open and view it. He’s inside now, it’s much warmer and quiet. He can feel his weight being passed from Benny to Bobby, who seems to stagger slightly more with it, but he can’t be more than a buck thirty, so Bobby manages to bring him upstairs while Benny, Cas, and Sam prep the living room. His eyes remain closed as Bobby lays him down on his bed, calloused hands running over Dean’s cold face. The hands disappear and Dean hears drawers opening and closing. Then, the shower in his bathroom starts up.

“Dean? Dean look at me.” He forces his eyes open, and though his vision is hazy, he can see Bobby’s concerned face clear as a crystal. “C’mon, let’s get you into the bathroom.”

Dean hangs on tight to Bobby’s side as they make their way into the adjoining bathroom, and Bobby says, “strip down.”

“Help?” is all he can muster.

Bobby quickly peels off Dean’s shirt and jeans, allowing Dean to take care of the boxers, and then ushering him into the shower. Dean sits against the wall, feeling the warm water patter against his freezing body. It hurts, the contrast between warm and cold, and it makes him feel nauseous and exhausted, but it also wakes him up a little. His eyes open, and his heartbeat perks up noticeably. He inhales deeply, allowing the steam to support his aching body as he scooches closer to the drain and lets the hot stream of water caress his sore skin.

“You okay in there?” Bobby asks from outside the curtain.

“Mhm.”

There’s a pause, and then, “Why Dean? What happened? You were doing so well...what brought this on?”

Dean doesn’t answer, only tips his face towards the water so his tears mingle with the flow. Here it comes. Bobby’s ready to tell him to leave.

“Did I do something? Is that why you ran Dean? Have I upset you?”

“No!” he snaps, louder than he’d meant. He quickly shuts his mouth and runs a hand through his wet hair, huddling in on himself more.

“Then what?”

He wipes at his face, though it does nothing for the tears streaking his cheeks. His voice is a weak sob when he responds, “Because I’m fucked up Bobby.”

“Dean?”

“What’s the point?” he sobs, glad that Bobby can’t see his face through the shower curtain, “what’s the point? I can’t take care of a kid, I’ll mess it up like I mess everything up. I’m a freak, I’m broken, I can’t be normal. It’s too late for me, and this kid too. So, what’s the fuckin point? I was an idiot to think this could work.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and then Bobby murmurs, “So what if you’re fucked up Dean?”

This catches him slightly off guard, “Huh?”

“We’re all a little fucked up, kid. That don’t mean we don't deserve happiness. We all go through rough shit, some more than others, and we all come out different. But that ain’t the end-all for us. Who says you can’t take care of a kid? You’re gonna have help Dean, I promise. You don’t have to be normal, you just need to try to trust us, okay? We take care of each other, remember?”

“I do,” Dean sniffles sincerely, “I do trust you Bobby. It’s myself I don’t trust.”

“Well I trust you Dean. Benny trusts you, and Sam, and Cas. You don’t need to trust yourself right now, if it takes you time to get there, then so be it. But until then, just try. I know you’re already trying so hard kid, but you gotta keep going. And...if there are nights like this, come to me. Or Benny, or Cas, or Sam. Come to us for help, don’t get lost in yourself, alright? That’s where this’ll all go wrong.”

Dean leans his head back against the shower wall, “It’s too hard Bobby.”

“It’s gonna get better kid, I swear to you.”

His head drops between his knees, and he cups a hand under the pronounced swell of his stomach. His belly button is slowly transitioning from innie to outie, which for some reason gets his attention. His isn’t sure why, as this is the most insignificant, pointless, and random thing he could be focusing on right now. But, for whatever reason, this small change in him brings a little peace to his tormented mind.

“Bobby, have I ruined everything?”

“No Dean, I’m still here.”

He closes his eyes, letting the water soak into his face one more time as he slowly rises to his shaky legs, leaning on the wall for support, “Okay.” he mumbles, and shuts off the water.

Bobby hands him a towel over the curtain rack, and he quickly dries off, stepping out with the towel around his waist under the swell of his belly. Apparently it’s visible that he’s a little unsteady on his feet still, so Bobby helps him over to his bed and sits him down.

“I picked out some pajamas for you. Go ahead and put them on and come down to meet us. Think you can get down the stairs by yourself?”

Dean nods, “Thank you.”

Bobby disappears out the door. Dean dresses himself as quickly as he can manage, then silently steps out into the hall. He lingers on the landing above the stairs, listening intently as he hears four voices downstairs.

“Is Dean gonna be okay?” Sam asks worriedly.

“He’ll be alright Sammy,” Bobby responds, “Why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep?”

Dean ducks out of sight as Sam heads up into his room. Once his door is closed, Dean returns to his place on the landing to eavesdrop.

“How is he Bobby?” Benny inquires in a concerned tone.

“Honestly Benny, the kid’s messed up.” Dean grimaces at these words, but listens intently, “but I told him we’re here for him.”

“What brought this on?” Cas now. Dean had almost forgotten he was here, he’s been so uncharacteristically quiet, “he’s seemed so...well, he’s obviously _himself_ , he’s not exactly the most easygoing person, but he hasn’t seemed bad lately. He's been smiling a lot."

“Sometimes foster kids are like this Cas,” Bobby explains quietly, “he’s been through a lot, life ain’t exactly been a cake walk for him. It’s hard for kids like him to get past that and feel normal. I think he had a panic attack and just ran. That’s probably all he knows. It was bound to happen at some point.”

It’s quiet, then Cas says, “What’s gonna happen now?”

“We’re gonna take care of him, and the baby.”

Benny clears his throat, “Novak, if this is too much for you to handle, then you should leave now. Because, I don’t want you leading him on just to ditch him when his baggage is too inconvenient.”

Dean’s heart clenches at the thought of losing Cas. Of course, he should’ve expected it though. He’s too much, he’s too difficult, he’s not worth all the burden he inflicts. Why would he ever think Cas would stick around?

“I didn’t say that Benny,” Cas responds sharply, “I love him, I’m not gonna ditch him when he needs us most. I’m just worried, that’s all.”

“You _what_ him?”

“Oh, like you didn’t already know how I feel about him.”

“You can’t love him Castiel, he doesn’t need that right now.” Benny argues.

“Why do you think I haven’t told him? I’m not gonna make his life any harder Benny, I’m fine with being just his friend because that’s what he needs.”

No, no, no, no, _no_. This isn’t happening. Cas did not just say that. Why did he have to say that? Cas doesn’t love Dean, that’s insane. There’s no way. Dean is not capable of being loved; Dean has nothing to offer anyone. Cas is just mixed up and confused. He is not in love with Dean, he’s just...stressed and Dean is making him say irrational things. That’s all Dean does, hurt people.

“Okay you two, we’ll discuss this another time.” Bobby mediates, “I don’t want Dean hearin’ any of this when he comes down. Right now, he just needs to relax and take his mind off this crap. All the stress ain’t good for him or the baby.”

Benny pipes up, “Speaking of, what’s taking him so long? You think he’s okay?”

“Dean? You alright?” Bobby calls up the stairs.

Dean clears his throat, “Comin!” he responds, pleased with how steady his voice sounds, given tonight’s events. He makes his way slowly down the stairs in his sock-clad feet, huddling into the long sleeve sweater Bobby’d picked out. They’ve started a fire in the living room, and on the coffee table is a mug of something -probably tea, cause Dean’s sworn off coffee with the baby in tow- beside a sandwich and some celery.

“Dean, why don’t you eat?” Bobby urges quietly, “gotta get somethin’ in your stomach.”

Dean nods, “Thank you. All of you guys. I’m- I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Benny shushes him, pulling Dean in for a tight, back-breaking hug, “I was so worried.”

“Crushing the baby,” Dean gasps.

Benny blushes and pulls away, “Sorry. I’m gonna head up. Night guys.” he shuffles past Bobby and jogs up the stairs, the old wood creaking under his large frame.

“Hey Bobby, could I talk to Dean for a minute?” Cas inquires, “alone?”

Bobby’s brows burrow down and his eyes get a pointed glint in them. Cas meets his gaze, and they stare at eachother for a second before Bobby says, “Okay. I’ll be in the kitchen, Dean, if you need me.”

“Bobby, no. Get some sleep, please. I’ll let Cas out.”

Bobby hesitates, “Dean-”

“Please don’t keep yourself up cause of me, I’ll be fine. It’s late. Get some sleep.”

He sighs, “Alright. Night you two.” and he’s gone.

Dean glances towards Cas, a million questions on his face. Cas strides towards the couch and sits beside the fire, “Come and eat.”

Robotically, Dean steps forward and plops down next to Cas. He picks up the sandwich and takes a bite, washing it down with the tea. He waits a minute in silence, but Cas doesn’t speak.

“Uh Cas-”

“Why Dean?” Castiel cuts him off, voice brash and low.

“Why-”

“Why did you run? Was it something I did?”

Dean grimaces at the thought of Cas blaming himself for Dean’s own stupidity, “No Cas, seriously, it’s just...it was just me being my idiotic self. I’m really sorry, I’m so fuckin dumb-”

“And that. Why do you have to do that, Dean?”

“Do what Cas?”

“Put yourself down, apologize for every little thing. You don’t have to be sorry for existing you know.”

Dean swallows hard, setting the half eaten sandwich down, appetite vaporized, “Yeah I do. Especially when I make everything so hard-”

“You don’t! We all care about you so much,” Cas scowls, glaring out the window into the dark night, “why can’t you just see how much I- _we_ all love you.” T

hat slip wasn’t lost on Dean, but he ignores it wisely, “I’m sorry Cas, I-”

“ _Stop_ apologizing!” Cas snarls, in a surprisingly frustrated voice.

Dean whips back, flinching away from the harsh tone. Cas has never sounded like this before. Dean’s really pushed him over the edge this time. God he’s a fuck up.

Upon seeing Dean’s reaction, Cas’ expression immediately softens, “Dean, oh Dean I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine Cas.” Dean cuts him off roughly, wanting this conversation to be over.

Cas looks down at his hands, folded in his lap, shaking his head, “Maybe it’s not good for us to be friends.”

Dean’s head snaps to the side, staring wide-eyed at Cas. So Benny was right. Dean is too much to handle. Cas is getting rid of him. He prepares himself for the final blow.

“I just...don’t think I’m good enough for you, y’know? If you’re still feeling like this even with us being friends...maybe I’m not a good friend. I...I just want you to be happy.”

“Wait, what? You think I feel like this cause of _you_?”

“No, not necessarily. But I know I can’t be helping-”

“Cas, no!” Dean’s voice is suddenly panicked, and he leans closer, “please, don’t do this. Cas you make things better. You-you help just by being here, I swear, you’re not making anything worse. Please, please Cas, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I don’t want to lose you-”

“Hey, okay Dean, relax. Calm down, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean hadn’t realized how frantic his voice was until Cas reaches in and envelopes him in his arms. Even though Dean feels ridiculous and pathetic for begging Cas to stay and now curling into his chest like a weak little puppy, he can’t focus on his humiliation. He pulls Cas in closer, inhaling the smell of cinnamon that permeates through the sweaty smell of his jersey. Right, he still hasn’t changed. The game seems like it was eons ago.

“Did you guys win?” he asks quietly.

Cas laughs once, “you’re asking me about the _game_?”

“What was the score?”

“23-11 home. We weren’t playing too well, but they really weren’t playing well.”

“Won’t your mom be worried that you’re out this late?”

“She’s in California for a case. She won’t be back until Thursday.”

Dean glances up at Cas, eyes softening, “Do you miss her?”

“I guess so. I don’t really see her much, so it’s kinda hard to miss her, you know?”

Dean nods, “Yeah.”

“Do you miss your parents?”

He cringes, but finds himself answering honestly, “My mom yeah.”

“Tell me about her,” Cas prompts gently.

A small smile echoes across Dean’s exhausted face, “she was really beautiful. She had long blonde hair, same eyes as me ‘cept they looked real nice on her, she was so sweet...funny, nicest lady you’d ever meet.” he feels tears prick his eyes and he grabs on to Cas’ jersey, burying his face deeper in the fabric.

“I’m sorry Dean,” Cas whispers softly, “you deserve so much better.”

Dean know this is wrong; to be cuddling into Castiel’s chest like this and using him as a pillow when minutes ago Cas had professed his love for Dean without even knowing that Dean could hear. It’s wrong, and unfair, and by not telling Cas he knows, Dean is lying by omission. But Cas is so warm, and soft, and he smells so good, that Dean just leans in closer.

God, he’s fucked.


	4. Hold Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: mentions of child abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, general mature content. I THINK, that's it, but read cautiously in case I've forgotten something crucial. Please be safe!
> 
> I found this chapter really interesting to write, I'm so into the family aspects of this story. The next one will be better, imo!! But I hope you like this :) 
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! More if you want!
> 
> (sorry the tenses change halfway through, I'm trying to condition myself back into writing past tense)

**OCTOBER**

The 18 week checkup. An important, eagerly anticipated milestone in any pregnancy.

Well, any normal pregnancy.

Dean constantly dreads these doctor appointments. Every time they step through the swishing doors of the OB’s office he’s wracked with a sick feeling of fear at the thought of something being wrong. What if the baby is sick, or injured or something? Knowing his luck, it’d be logical.

His anxiety is only heightened by the fact that Benny has to take him today in lieu of Bobby, because Bobby got called into the garage for an urgent matter. Dean doesn’t know what’s could be so frantic about fixing a car, but he respects that Bobby’s got an important job.

In the plush waiting room chair beside Dean, Benny shudders, “don’t you get nervous being here?”

Dean snorts, “Yeah I do.”

“I hate doctors.” Benny scratches his neck and fidgets uncomfortably, which is very uncharacteristic of the usually smug, confident athlete.

“You alright Benny? You look a little faint.”

“M’fine,” he replies under his breath, “just really hate doctors.”

It’s not much longer before Dean’s name is called. Benny asks if Dean wants him to go in. Dean says it’s alright, and follows the nurse back, leaving Benny to wait in the lobby.

“How are you feeling, Dean?” Nurse Hannah asks as she takes Dean’s measurements.

“Fine.” he replies, because physically, he’s been doing good.

“Been eating enough? Staying away from caffeine?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She smiles her warm, comforting smile and her bright blue eyes practically twinkle. She waits while Dean takes his urine test then she administers the blood test. Then he’s turfed off to wait in the exam room. He sits up on the table, gnawing on his lip nervously.

While he waits, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He glances at the ID: Cas.  _‘How’s the appointment?’_

Dean smiles; Cas knows how much these make Dean nervous. He quickly responds, _‘fine. Thanks Cas.’_

He quickly returns his phone to his pocket as Dr. Bradbury enters, a perky smile on her face, “Good morning Dean!”

“Hey Doc.” he offers her a short smile in return, but his anxiety wipes the expression almost immediately from his face.

“How’s everything been going?” she inquires, as she pushes his shirt up to measure his belly. His belly button is a complete outie at this point. He kinda hates that, but it’s a nice reminder that the baby is growing alright.

“Fine.”

“No more morning sickness, right?”

“None at all.”

“Perfect! Looks like your measurements are right where they need to be, excellent. Baby seems to be growing absolutely fine. Have you been experiencing any round ligament pain?”

“Some,” Dean admits. It’s been rather unpleasant. Bobby had found him curled up beside his bed on the floor, groaning in complaint. It’d taken fifteen minutes for the older man to coax him down stairs for some water and a heating pad.

“That’s to be expected. Alright, enough chit chat. Let’s have a look at this baby.” she smears the gel across his skin, and he’s thankful she has the know-how to warm it up a little before applying it. She presses the transducer hard into his middle and begins roving it around.

“There’s the heartbeat,” she says warmly as the familiar _thrum thrum thrum_ fills the room.

Dean feels a smile in spite of himself; he really loves hearing the heartbeat, no matter how cliche that sounds. It makes this all more real. He’s going to be a parent.  
That thought still scares the fuck out of him, but after his post-football game breakdown, everyone’s been really supportive about it. Bobby even cleared out some space in the spare room for a nursery, which nearly had Dean in hysterics. Good hysterics.

“Here’s the head…” she points to a large blob on the screen.

Dean grimaces, “It’s huge.”

Dr. Bradbury chuckles lightly, pushing a long orange piece of hair behind her shoulder, “You know, you’re right. It’s excessively large.”

Dean groans, “Leave it to me to produce a freak of nature baby.”

“Good luck with _that._ ” she giggles, “oh, there’s a leg. And an arm, aw, look, they’re waving.”

The baby’s arm is extended upward so it almost does look like he’s waving. Dean smiles again, a small laugh exiting his throat, “Hi baby.” and he waves shortly at the screen.

“Would you like to know the gender?” Bradbury inquires as she fiddles with some buttons on the machine.

Dean rapidly shakes his head, “No, no.”

“Wanna be surprised?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fair, lots of parents want a surprise. Alright, if you don’t have any questions for today, we’re good to go.”

Dean shrugs, “we’re good.”

She grins and prints him off some photos of the ultrasound, wiping his belly clean and giving him a hand down off the table. She leads him out to the lobby and he thanks her before she returns to another patient.  
He steps into the waiting room, scanning for Benny. Frowning when he doesn’t see the bigger boy, he figures he must’ve stepped into the bathroom. Dean waits awkwardly by the front entrance for ten minutes, but when no one comes in or out of the bathroom, he pokes his head in. Empty.

Maybe Benny decided to wait in the car. Dean pushes through the swinging doors and huddles into his jacket, shivering at the chilly bite of fall. It’s October now, and the orange leaves littering the ground speak to the changing weather. His nose is already starting to run.

He does one quick sweep of the parking lot before realizing Benny’s truck is nowhere to be seen. What the hell? Dean removes his phone from his pocket and dials Benny’s number. No answer. He tries him two more times, but with no success.

Well, fuck.

He supposes he could walk home, but it is a good ten miles, give or take a few, and his back is killing him. Not to mention, that’s a lengthy walk for someone who isn’t almost 5 months pregnant, and what if he gets lost? He could call Bobby, but he’s at work. He’s busy, Dean doesn’t want to bother him. Sam can’t get him, he only has a permit. In a situation like this he’d usually call Missouri, but he doesn’t want her freaking out and thinking they’re unfit to take care of him or something. There’s gotta be a good explanation for this.

He ends up calling Cas, because, who the hell else is gonna be here for him? He knows he can trust Cas.

“Hey Dean, you usually text after your appointments. Everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah Cas, everything’s great with the baby.”

“That’s awesome! I can’t wait to see these pictures.”

Dean smiles and looks down at his feet, though the swell of his middle prevents him from getting a good view, “Yeah uh...actually I was wondering if you might be able to do me a favor?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Um...can you come pick me up from the doctor?”

“I thought Benny was there with you.”

Dean grimaces, hesitant to share the situation with Cas, who already has a rocky relationship with Benny, “He uh...kinda left?”

“What?”

“While I was in the appointment he um...left.”

“Did you call him?”

“No answer.”

“He just _left_ you there?!”

“Uh-”

“Where are you now?”

“Outside the office.”

“ _Outside?_ It’s forty degrees out! Ugh, dammit. I’ll come get you. What’s the office?”

“Bradbury’s practice, uh, something like _Sunshine Obstetrics_ I think.”

“Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can, you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah yeah, no problem. Thanks a lot Cas, I owe you.”

“No you don’t, I’ll be there soon.” the line disconnects. Dean knows that with the way Cas drives, ‘soon’ is way less than a sane person’s definition.

As it were, Cas arrives in 11 minutes.

He quickly jumps out of the car and approaches Dean, who’s nose is slowly turning red with the bite of cold, “God Dean! You okay?”

“I’m fine!” Dean assures him, “I’m really sorry Cas-”

“Don’t be sorry!” Cas growls, “This is _not_ your fault, I can’t believe that asshole just _left you_ -”

“Cas.”

“Right, sorry. C’mon get in the car I’ll bring you home.”

Dean lowers himself into the passenger seat, relishing in the warm wooshes of heat coming from Cas’ vents. Obviously Cas is comfortable with the temperature, but he cranks it up a little warmer. For Dean’s benefit, presumably.  
“

So other than this, how did the appointment go?” Cas asks, and Dean wrinkles his nose as the speedometer inches higher and higher with every second they drive. Though he’s sure Cas drives faster when Dean isn’t in the car -he’s told Dean that he tones it down for the baby’s safety- he’s still well over the speed limit. How he’s completely ticket-free, is lost on Dean.

“It went perfectly.” Dean responds, pulling the ultrasound photos from his jacket pocket, smiling, “But she said the baby has a really big head.”

Cas snorts, “Well he gets that from your genes.”

“Shut up! Look.”

Cas glances over and eyes the photos while still looking at the road every few seconds, a smile growing wide on his face, “Aw, Dean. He looks just like you.”

“I hate you.” Dean says, but he’s laughing. Right now, the baby slightly resembles an uncooked meatloaf with limbs or something.

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“I dunno, I want to be surprised. Plus, it really doesn’t matter to me.”

“Oh c’mon,” Cas scoffs, “You don’t even want one a _tiny_ bit more than the other?”

“No,” Dean replies honestly, “I don’t care if it’s a girl, or a boy or neither. As long as it’s okay…” he runs a hand over his clothed middle, breathing out slowly, “anything’s fine with me.”

Cas is smiling again, “You’re cute. _I_ want a girl.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow up, “And who says you get a vote?”

“Uh, duh, if I’m gonna be the godfather I’m definitely getting a say in gender.”

“Oh? And you think you’re the godfather?”

Cas tilts his head towards Dean, offense clearly scribbled across his expression, “Bobby gets grandpa, Benjamin and Sam get uncle, and I get _nothing_?”

Dean chuckles, shaking his head, “Alright alright, you can be godfather.”

“Hmph,” Cas smirks proudly, “I knew you’d cave.”

“Don’t act so cocky.”

"If it were possible for me to stop, I would have already.”

* * *

  
They reach Bobby’s shortly after, and the sight of Benny’s truck nestled safely in the driveway has Cas’ hands clenching harder on the wheel. Dean pats his knee and smiles, which seems to relax him a little.

“Thanks a lot Cas, I really appreciate it.”  
“Sure Dean. And hey...if you want me to talk to him about this, I’d be glad to.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I’ll pass on the duel, thanks though. See you later.”

“Text me.”

Nodding, Dean pushes the passenger door open and braces one hand on the side of the car to push himself out. He rests a hand on his lower back to keep his balance, though he can hear Cas chuckling behind him at his now very obvious pregnancy waddle. He waves once to Cas, and makes his way slowly up the porch steps. With his ever-growing stomach, the torn up brick is becoming even more of a death hazard.

“Benny?” Dean calls as he enters the house, pulling off his shoes and making his way up the stairs. Benny’s bedroom door is closed, so he knocks once, “Benny?”

From inside, there’s a faint sniffle.

Not wanting to intrude, but very concerned, Dean slowly pushes the door open. Benny is sitting on the edge of his bed, facing the window that overlooks the road. His elbows are on his knees, head in his hands, his large, thick back heaving with sobs.

“Oh my god, Benny!” Dean surges forward and sits beside him on the bed, placing a hand on his shoulder. Benny immediately flinches away from the touch, and Dean’s hands fling up passively, “Hey, sorry. Dude talk to me.”

Benny wipes at his face, which does absolutely nothing for the obvious wetness of his cheeks and bloodshot red rims of his eyes, “I’m fine.” he mutters gruffly.

“Benny, you just ditched me outside the doctor in forty degree weather, don’t you think you at least owe me an explanation?”

His breath blows out lowly, “I’m so sorry Dean. I...had to...get out of there.”

Dean’s brow creases, “Was this about being at the doctor? You’re this scared of doctor’s offices?”

Benny shakes his head once, looking out the window, averting his gaze. His crystal clear, blue eyes are liquidy and bright as he blinks away the tears, long eyelashes brushing his cheeks. He glances quickly at Dean, then looks away again, “Has Bobby ever told you...anything about how I got here?”

Dean shakes his head, “Don’t think he’d find it his place. Why?”

The bigger boy laughs once breathlessly, but there’s no humor in his expression, “Yeah, that’s Bobby for you. Um...my dad...my dad was a doctor.”

Arching an eyebrow, Dean urges, “Yeah?”

Benny runs a shaking, large hand through his fine, sandy hair, “My dad...he…” his free hand clenches hard, but he’s obviously not afraid to share the story with Dean. He seems to have had at least some time to recover from whatever he’s about to say, “ _touched me_ when I was a kid. He always had the office to himself, cause he was private practice. We’d...go there after hours or in between patients and he’d…” Benny’s voice breaks, “he-”

"I get it,” Dean whispers quietly, “You don’t have to say it.”

Benny nods once, the tears returning now, “My parents were divorced. Dad left my mom cause she was an alcoholic. She didn’t have custody. _He_ was deemed the only one fit to take care of me. Until uh...one day...one of the nurses walked in on...walked in on him...on us…” he cringes roughly, “well, let’s say he got _exposed_.”

“Benny,” Dean murmurs, “I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, wiping at the abundant tears again, “it’s alright Dean, I ended up here. Bobby adopted me, and I’m safe and loved…” he runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath, “But uh...sometimes these thoughts just come back all at once and I’m like...paralyzed. I’m not even in control of myself. It’s just... _fear_. I know I act tough...I lift and I play sports and I yell sometimes…it’s just that I…I don’t know how to exist without protecting myself in some way.”

“I understand.” and Dean does, “Really Benny, I do, it’s okay.”

“I’m really sorry I ditched you.”

“It’s alright, it’s okay Benny, I swear. God, this is all my fault, I’m so sorry. I should’ve-”

“No, hey, it ain’t your fault. How were you supposed to know? I was okay at the hospital with you in August, I didn’t expect this to come on. I...I offered to take you, I told Bobby I’d be fine…” he shakes his head, “guess I’m...not.”

Dean reaches over and very slowly takes Benny’s hand, stroking his knuckles with the pad of his thumb, “it’s okay to not be fine. I’m not. You have every right to still not be okay. What he did to you...was fucking evil, and nobody deserves that, you know? People can’t just...treat other people like things. You’re not a thing, you’re important and you deserve to be here, happy and safe. You know that, right?”

Benny nods surely, “I do, yeah. Thanks a lot Dean...that means so much to me. You should take your own advice sometimes.”

A small smile echoes across Dean’s face, “Yeah, maybe I should.”

Benny sighs, returning the smile, “Alright, enough of this mopey stuff. Let me see the ultrasound pictures. Gotta see how my niece is doing.”

“Hmph.” Dean scoffs.

“What?”

“Nothing...Cas wants a girl too.”

Benny’s brows pull down, “Oh?”

“Yeah, he told me on the way home from the doctor. Maybe you guys have more in common than you think.”

Benny snorts, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Show me the pictures.”

* * *

  
Castiel’s books make a loud _thwack_ as they hit the lunch table. Dean looks up from his sandwich with arched brows, jumping a little at the sudden noise. Cas flops down in the seat across from him, eyes hard and that little quirk in his lips that tells Dean he’s about to start whining.

“Something wrong?” Dean inquires cautiously, one hand smoothing over the rounded bump of a 20 week pregnant stomach.

“Spend the night at my house tomorrow,” Cas replies unhelpfully.

Dean’s eyes widen, “Huh?”

“I’m having a bad week, tomorrow is Friday, and you’re my best friend. I’ve known you for almost three months and you’ve yet to meet my mother.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair, gnawing on his lower lip. For some reason, he finds himself immensely anxious to meet Castiel’s mother, “Uh...I dunno Cas. Does she know about…” he gestures obligatorily to his stomach, “ _this_?”

Loud peals of laughter echo from Cas’ throat, “Of course she does, Dean. She’s very eager to meet you.”

Apparently, Dean’s expression hints at just how anxious he is, because Cas continues, “what’s got you so up in arms? We don’t bite.”

“It’s just...I’ve never had to meet someone elses parents before. What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Not like _you_?” Cas teases, “But you’re such a ray of sunshine.”

“I’d appreciate it if my gut-wrenching terror wasn’t a joke to you.”

“Are you in or what?”

“I’ll have to ask Bobby.”

“Right, just call me and let me know.”

Dean forces himself to remain calm throughout the rest of the hour, though most of his thoughts are absorbed with a torrent of panic and worry. What else is new?

* * *

  
That night at dinner, Dean decided to broach the subject of a sleepover the the Cas. He wasn't sure how Bobby would feel, given Cas' recent confession of love for Dean. He only hoped Bobby could tell that Dean was in no condition to be in love with anyone.

"Hey, Bobby?" He started in a low voice, pushing his potatoes around on his plate nervously.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering, would it be cool if I slept over at Cas' tomorrow night?"

Bobby and Benny exchanged a nervous glance, and after an unbearable silence, Bobby said, "I dunno Dean. Are you sure you'll be okay being away from home?"

Dean appreciated the concern, but he wasn't a complete head case. He could act like a normal teenager when he wanted to. Probably.

"I'll be fine Bobby. I've never really had a sleepover...kinda something I missed out on. I was hoping I could get some normal stuff out of the way before baby gets here and really throws things outta whack."

He felt kinda bad about guilt-tripping Bobby, but he's not really lying. And it seemed to be working.

"I suppose it'd be alright," he responded gruffly, and Benny's eyes narrowed, "but you call me if you need anything, okay boy? I'll be worried about you all night."

"No need," Dean assured him, pleased, "I'll be with Cas."

" _That's_ what I'm worried about." He muttered so quietly that Dean almost didn't catch it.

He swallowed hard and went back to his food, ignoring what he'd just heard and trying to focus on eating. It would be fine. He had nothing to worry about.

Right, like _he_ could ever worry about nothing.

* * *

 

Friday morning, Dean and Benny rode alone in the pickup. Sam had gotten a ride with his girlfriend Jess, she was a sophomore. Apparently he dug the older chicks. Go Sammy.

There was an unexplained tense atmosphere in the cab of the truck as they drove along. Dean had gotten his permit last week, much to his pleasure, but he still couldn't drive alone. He couldn't wait for that day to come, especially as he sat in the awkward environment of Benny's truck.

"Dean are you sure about this?" Benny asked, shattering the silence.

Dean frowned, "sure about what?"

"This...sleepover with Cas. I don't think it's a good idea."

Dean's eyes narrowed pointedly, "and why is that?"

Benny looked conflicted. He gnawed at his lower lip for a moment, before responding, "I would just rather you be home, that's all."

"That sounds like your problem, not mine." Dean rumbled, crossing his arms over his abdomen petulantly. Their unhidden concern about Cas jumping Dean's bones was starting to get on his nerves.

Benny's voice came out as a whine, "dont be mad. We just want you safe."

"I'm safer with Cas than I am with most people," Dean snapped, "in _every_ way."

Benny quirked a brow up, "what are you saying?"

"I know why you guys are being all constipated about me and Cas being alone together. You think we're gonna fuck or something like that. Well, I got news for you dude, I really _don't_ just give it up for anyone who gives me the time of day."

"That's not what we're saying," Benny insisted, "it's not you we're worried about."

"I can handle myself. And Cas respects my boundaries."

Benny scratched his neck as he pulled into an available space in the student parking lot, "we just care about you, that's all."

"I know," Dean laid a hand over Benny's, where it rested on the gear shift, "and I appreciate it. But I think you know as well as I do that we need to just be kids sometimes."

The bigger boy nodded, "you're right. I know I'm being...overprotective. I love you."

Dean's heart wrenched, and though he knew Benny didn't mean in it the same way that Cas did, his throat closed up. He cursed himself silently for not being able for return the sentiment. Cause he probably did love Benny back, but for some reason the words didn't want to come out. He hadn't loved anyone out loud since his mother.

"It's okay Dean," Benny murmured, "I understand what it's like."

"I'm sorry," Dean responded pathetically.

"Don't be, I know you feel the same."

"I do," he insisted.

Benny killed the engine and smiled, "well, let's go. I don't wanna miss first period."

They climbed out of the truck and began walking silently towards the entrance of the school. It seemed particularly deserted today. Dean wondered if they were early. Or maybe he was just feeling isolated. He didn't like it.

They met up with Cas, as usual, and he was more than ecstatic to hear the news that Dean was permitted to stay over. He babbled about how Dean needed to do more "teenager" stuff, and even suggested they throw a kegger. Dean wasn't sure if that was a joke at first, and he must've looked pretty ashen, cause Cas just laughed and patted his shoulder. Benny scowled. Benny always scowled around Cas.

When the bell for first hour rang they went their separate ways. Dean thought about what Benny had said in the car, and guilt wracked his entire body. He wished so badly that he wasn't so broken, that the words could have come out smoothly. He wanted to be normal. He wanted to not be afraid of getting hurt, he wanted to not be nervous to have a fuckin sleepover for crying out loud. Teenagers do that all the damn time.

He leaned back in his seat, running a hand over his distended middle slowly. The plastic chairs were definitely becoming a hindrance; his back was always killing him and they had no support.

Dean suddenly felt very alone. He sat between two girls who always whispered to each other behind him and asked him to borrow his pencil. He wasn't sure how they never had one, but he was starting to run out. Other than asking for his writing utensils, the girls never spoke to him.

In fact, he never really talked to anyone at school except the occasional short interaction with a classmate. Sure he ate lunch with Cas and sometimes Benny sat in, but that was the only time he saw them. They had senior classes.

An unbearable feeling of loneliness began to wash over him. He was confused, cause just yesterday he was content with his small brigade of friends. But suddenly, his throat burned with the bite of loneliness and he felt incredibly sad.

Where the hell was this coming from?

He started to get nervous as he felt tears pricking his eyes. He raised his hand and asked if he could go to the bathroom. When the teacher permitted it, he got up as quickly as he could and shuffled out, trying to ignore the stares of everyone in class.

Dean found himself leaning over one of the sinks. Luckily, he'd beaten his tears there, but they began to fall as soon as he entered. It was fortunate that the stalls were all empty. Though, that only contributed to his loneliness.

"Oh! Sorry I- Dean? Hey, what's wrong?"

Dean looked over his shoulder to see Sam standing awkwardly in the doorway of the restroom. He had a bathroom pass from his 1st hour, and he looked worried.

"Are you alright? Are you in pain? Should I get the nurse?"

"M'fine," Dean sniffed, wiping at his face with his jacket sleeve.

"Should I get Benny?"

"No, no really Sam s'alright."

Sam hesitated by the door, biting his lip worriedly, "is it about your dad?"

Dean shook his head quickly, "No. I'm just feeling kinda...lonely."

Sam nodded, moving forward cautiously. He placed his hand flat over Dean's arm and rubbed soothing circles there.

Dean finally dried the last of his tears, "thanks Sammy."

Sam smiled, looking at his feet, "you know, nobody except Bobby and Benny have called me that since I was little. My first foster mom used to do it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Dean. You're family. And my foster mom was nice."

"She was? So what happened?"

Sam hesitated, then decided to speak, "she had a mental breakdown. My biological parents died when I was just a baby, but apparently they used to hurt me." Sam rolled pushed his shirt up to reveal an uneven array of puckered white scars across his chest and stomach. Dean couldn't pinpoint exactly what had made them, but it made him nauseous all the while, “I don’t remember it, I was little. Anyway, she was always kinda unstable, really anxious and she had bouts of depression. But she loved me. I think when she found out what had happened to me it was too much to handle, and she kinda spiraled. Started drinking, doing drugs…eventually she was institutionalized. I was five by then. And they shipped me off to another foster home that wasn’t quite so nice.”

Dean was staring. He couldn’t really think of anything useful to say in this situation. Luckily, he didn’t have to. Sam continued talking comfortably.

“I didn’t get to Bobby until I was eleven. Benny was already there, but he hadn’t been there too long. Bobby gets the older kids, the ones people think are past saving.” he smiled wryly, “people are wrong, of course.”

“Sam, I’m sorry.” Dean managed, “About your parents, and your first foster mom...that’s all really horrible.”

Sam shrugged a shoulder, smile smoothing into a neutral expression, “We’ve all been through stuff we didn’t want to go through. Doesn’t mean we can’t move on.”

Hesitantly, Dean opened his arms for a hug. Sam grinned, moving in and wrapping his arms around Dean’s extended middle. It was a little awkward, with the bump between them, but neither seemed to mind. There was a certain connection between two damaged souls that could never be replicated by the comfort of an average person. A gut-deep understanding that sort of reminded you: _hey, I’m not the only one who’s fucked up. There are other people who get it, and they’re here for me. I’m not alone._

Sam smiled against Dean’s shirt, “you’re having mood swings, by the way.”

Dean pulled away to look up at him -it was still weird looking _up_ at someone who was two years younger- “what?”

“I’m pretty sure this random crying is just mood swings. Normal pregnancy stuff.”

The shorter boy let out a relieved breath, “Thank God. Last thing I need is to be more bummed out than usual.”

Sam purses his lips, “But...you’re doing okay, right? I mean, that night after the game...you’re not feeling like that anymore?”

Dean grimaced at the mention of his embarrassing freakout, he wished they'd stop bringing it up, “I’m not going to run away again.”

Sam frowned, "that isn't what I asked."

"Don't you need to use the bathroom?" Dean inquired, steering this conversation away from dangerous territory.

The younger boy seemed to understand, "yeah, you should get back to class. Later Dean."

Dean shuffled out of the bathroom, patting his face completely dry and trying to shake off that interaction. A school restroom isn't usually the place where you find out your family's fucked up past, but he wasn't complaining.

The more he got to know his new family, the safer he felt in their embrace.


	5. Tear in My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So sorry for the wait guys! Hope you like this chapter! <3
> 
> I don't think there are any warnings except general mature content and mentions of sexual behavior.
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know all your thoughts! More soon if you'd like :)

Cas pulled the car up to his house, letting the engine idle as he glanced over at Dean, who was clutching his seat with an ironclad grip.

"Are you constipated or nervous?"

 _Well, both_ , Dean thought uncomfortably -pregnancy wasn't easy on the colon- but he decided to go with, "Nervous."

Cas sighed as he killed the engine, "don't worry Mama Bear, it'll go great. My mom is really nice."

Dean gnawed on his lower lip, "I'm sure."

"Come on," Cas climbed out of the car and crossed to open Dean's door, holding his hand out in offering, "you'll be fine."

Dean took his hand. His own fingers curled snugly in Cas' palm. Cas' hands were smooth, soft and a little cold with the bite of approaching winter. Dean shuddered, but not from the temperature. Cas pulled him from the car and threw Dean's bag over his shoulder, and while he wanted to protest, he was relieved of the extra weight. They walked hand-in-hand up to the front porch. Dean tried not to pay attention to how much he liked it. He knew he should pull away, that this meant something more to Cas, but he couldn't bring himself. The feeling of Castiel's hand in his was too magnificent to avoid.

And he knew he was a bad person for leading Cas on like this when he knew how Cas felt. And maybe Dean felt the same, but he knew there was no way to act on it. Not when he was pregnant with someone else's baby. He wasn't dragging Cas into that mess just cause Cas had a little crush. He'd get over it. Dean needed to protect Cas from...well, himself.

"Won't your mom be upset by this?" Dean gestured to their interlocked hands.

Cas frowned, "why would she be?"

"I _am_ damaged goods, I don't want her to get the wrong idea."

Cas cringed at Dean's phrasing, "I hate when you say that."

"Don't make it any less true."

Cas' teeth ground together, "get the wrong idea about what?"

"That I'm a gold digger or something."

Cas pulled his hand from Dean's, "she knows you're not a-"

"Okay." Dean cut him off quickly, putting his arms up in defeat. He really didn't wanna have an argument with Cas on his front porch, "okay."

Cas took Dean's hand again, though he didn't seem placated, and they entered the house.

Dean tried to ignore the erratic, almost painful thudding of his heart in his chest cavity. He felt a wheeze sneaking into his throat. He quickly swallowed down his nerves. The more anxious he was around Cas' mom, the more she would dislike him.

 _Be cool_ , he told himself angrily.

"Mom?" Cas called.

"In here angel!” a feminine voice called from the kitchen, where a low, unfamiliar song was lulling.

Cas gave Dean a smile, squeezed his hand, and pulled him through the vast hallway into the kitchen. It was nice, clean tile with granite countertops, dark burnished cabinets with tiny trinkets and an assortment of family photos littering the fridge. A tall, thin woman was standing at the stove, cooking something undetectable. A small, modest looking radio crooned soft melodies that Dean didn't recognize, but sounded like 50s or 60s music. Cas set Dean’s bag down in the doorway, and cleared his throat. The woman turned and Dean saw the second most vibrant pair of blue eyes on Earth.

Cas’ were first, of course.

“You must be Dean!” she perked up instantly, a bright smile crinkling her young-looking face. She wiped her hands on the white apron around her waist and scurried over, pulling Dean into her embrace. He winced a little, surprised by the contact, but hugged her back. She didn’t seem to notice that he and Cas had been holding hands. Or, didn’t seem to care, rather.

“Nice to meet you.” he said, a little confused. She pulled away, keeping her petite hands on his biceps, “I’m Naomi Novak, nice to meet you too! You’re absolutely glowing! How far along are you, Dean?”

“Oh, thanks. I’m about twenty weeks.” Dean found himself smiling. He was always comfortable around people who asked about the baby, and even though his face felt a little warm, he got a good vibe from Naomi.

“You’re carrying high,” she observed, “I think it’ll be a girl.”

“I told you so.” Cas grinned as he headed over to the stove, “What’s cooking?”

“I’m making sour cream mashed potatoes and steak. Is that alright with you, Dean?”

“What? Oh, yeah, that sounds great Ms. Novak.”

“Please, call me Naomi. Come, get off your feet, sit down.” she ushered him toward a kitchen chair with a comfortable cushion resting on it.

It felt sort of unusual being babied by this complete stranger, but not uncomfortable at all. In fact, she sort of reminded him of his own mother.

He watched as Naomi crossed the room and gave Cas a hug. He was much taller than her, but he still buried his face in her shoulder and closed his eyes. Dean remembered Cas saying that Naomi had just gotten back from a business trip yesterday morning and they hadn’t seen much of each other since she’d returned. She travelled a lot. He must really miss her. Dean missed his mom too, but at least he never had to say goodbye more than once.

He felt like he was intruding. He fiddled with the zipper on his sweatshirt so they wouldn't feel invaded on.

After a moment they broke apart and Dean's peripherals caught Naomi cradling Cas' face shortly, before she returned to her task at the stove. Cas came back to the table to sit across from Dean, looking a little more alive than he had earlier.

Dean wished he still had a mother to breathe life into him that way.

Cas moved his hands across the table and gave Dean's fingers a squeeze, the sympathetic smile on his face told Dean that he knew exactly what he was thinking. Dean smiled back at him. He was happy that Cas had a mom like Naomi.

"Are you boys gonna sit there and stare at each other or are you gonna help me peel these potatoes?"

"We'll peel," Cas assured her, getting to his feet.

Dean moved to stand, but Naomi waved her hand, "you rest kiddo, Cas can peel them."

"Please, let me do something." Dean insisted, feeling like a charity case, "I want to help."

Naomi appraised him, grinning, "alright then. Why don't you take over the potato peeling and Cas can start on the steak."

Cas handed Dean the peeler with extra instruction to " _be very careful Dean, you could hurt yourself this thing is sharp._ "

Dean rolled his eyes and started his task. It had been a long time since he'd helped make dinner. He remembered one time when he was really young, he and his mom had gotten to work making her famous tomato rice soup. His father had a cold, she always made it when someone was sick. That was before she died and everything went to hell.

He cursed quietly as the peeler slicked against his index finger, drawing a thin line of blood. He quickly dropped it and lifted his hand so he wouldn't spill any on the food. Shit, Cas was right, he should've been paying attention.

"Dean? You alright?" Cas asked, glancing up from the steak at the sound of Dean's curse.

"Fine," he insisted, "do you have paper towels?"

Cas' eyes zeroed in on Dean's now steadily bleeding finger, "you hurt yourself! Oh, you're _bleeding_!"

"Sorry," Dean managed, "it was an accident-"

"Don't apologize sweetie," Naomi replied quickly, "run your hand under the faucet and I'll get some band aids and alcohol."

She hurried out of the room as Dean rinsed his finger. The water turned a pinkish color as he did so. Naomi returned quickly and cleaned the cut before bandaging it. She put the bloody potato peeler in the dishwasher and smiled warmly.

"Are you alright?" She checked.

Dean nodded, face flushed like the flames of hell, "I'm fine, I'm so sorry. I can't believe I did that."

"At least you peeled them all," Cas grinned, "though we have to set the _Days Without Kitchen Injury_ tally back to zero."

Naomi laughed, "That's alright, we needed a little safety reminder. Dean, why don't you help me get these cooking?"

The rest of the meal prep continued without incident, which Dean was grateful for. He was so relieved at their calm responses to his mistake. If he were still with his dad or another foster parent...lets just say it wouldn't have been as well received. As it were, dinner was delicious. He wanted to take seconds, but he felt a little uncomfortable doing so here. He'd just barely started doing that at Bobby's.

Luckily, Cas tsked, "you didn't eat enough, here." And served him another plate.

Dean tried to hide his smile. Cas' answering grin told him that he failed. But he didn't care too much.

After dinner Naomi went up to her office to finish some work, leaving Cas and Dean to pick up. Dean offered to help, but Cas told him to relax. He didn't argue, his back hurt like hell. Cas started loading the dishwasher and putting away leftovers while Dean wandered aimlessly around the kitchen, eyeing the family photos.

There was a picture of a small brunette boy with bright, wild blue eyes, hanging from a swing set. He was grinning a smile that lacked a few teeth, and his messily parted hair fell in an innocent array around his unmarked skin.

“You were a cute kid,” Dean said with a smile, running a hand slowly over his abdomen curiously. He couldn't believe that one day, this thing inside his body would look like that.

Cas chuckled, “had the worst gap in my teeth. Thank god we could afford braces."

“It was cute.”

“You're too kind.”

There was another photo that caught his eye. A tall, broad shouldered man with coffee colored hair streaked with gray. There were crows feet around his electric blue eyes, and his intense, broad lips were pursed in an uninterested expression. He wore a black overcoat with a small white collar on it. A priest. On his lap sat the boy from the other photo, around the same age. He clung to the scowling man’s waist, smiling widely at the camera, seeming completely oblivious to the lack of kindness on the older man’s face.

Behind the priest, stood a much younger Naomi Novak. She wore her long hair in a braid to the side, and her face was tanned and youthful. The priest appeared to be significantly older than her. The unreadable gaze in her eyes made Dean think she probably understood what that meant.

“Is this your dad?” Dean blurted out before he could control himself.

Cas looked over his shoulder, biting his lip before turning back around. “Yeah,” he said in a hard voice.

“Sorry,” Dean murmured, “I didn't mean to-”

“It's okay, Dean. You already know what happened.” Cas rinsed his hands and dried them on a dish towel before coming to stand beside Dean in front of the fridge. He ran his fingertips lightly over the photo, pursing his lips, “this is the only picture we have of him. It was my mom's birthday, I think. He didn't like pictures of all of us together.” Cas’ expression hardened, “it would've been _incriminating_.”

Dean cringed, “that's horrible Cas.”

Castiel slid his hand around Dean’s waist and pulled him close. Dean wanted to object, but it felt so...right being by his side. He fit perfectly into the dip of Cas’ waist, his head just high enough to rest on the taller boy's shoulder. Cas was trim, but sturdy, able to easily support Dean’s ever-increasing weight as he leaned tiredly on him. He smelled of crisp after shave and a hint of cinnamon, his skin was warm to the touch.

“I guess some people just weren't meant to be parents,” Cas shrugged, still staring at his father's angry expression, “I wish he'd have figured that out sooner though. Saved my mom some heartbreak.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ hips and leaned his head on his chest, “She didn't deserve that. You didn't either. I'm sorry he was such a piece of shit.”

Cas looked down at Dean, brows furrowing a little, “do you think I could ever be a parent?”

Dean quirked an eyebrow up, “is that something you'd want?”

He nods, “definitely. But...do you think I could? Would I be a shitty dad?”

“No.” Dean replied with certainty, “I think you'd make a great dad. You're so…” His face felt warm, “compassionate, and nurturing.”

Cas’ eyes lingered for a moment on Dean’s swollen middle. He didn't speak, but there was a silent understanding between them as to what he was thinking.

Before Dean could stammer out an uncomfortable continuation, the other boy shattered the awkwardness with his natural charisma. He wagged his eyebrows suggestively, “really? _Compassionate_ huh?”

“You act like an idiot,” Dean rolled his eyes, “but you're a really good person. Hell, you put up with me after all the shit I've caused. All I do is make things hard but you're always there.”

His grip on Dean tightened ever-so-slightly, “you are more than worth any ‘shit’. And you don't make things hard.” A small smirk spread across his face, “I happen to like the circle of bad luck that surrounds you. It's a lovely addition to your character.”

Dean snorted, “great, so my identity is _unlucky_.”

“Yes, but in the best way.”

“Well, that's all that matters.”

“That's the right attitude!”

 

* * *

 

As a foster kid, Dean’s not had ample opportunity to experience the video game scene. Sure, once at a bearable home, he had a go on the _Nintendo 64_ , but he wasn't exactly an expert.

That made it especially sad when he kicked Castiel’s ass in _Call of Duty_. Twice.

“Ugh!” Cas groaned, gripping his controller with furious iron fingers, “when did you get so good?”

Dean grinned, “I'm a natural.”

Cas spooned another helping of chocolate ice cream -directly from the carton, the best way to eat it- into his mouth and shook his head, “it'd be a privilege to have you on my zombie fighting squad, if the opportunity were to arise.”

Dean patted his middle, chuckling, “let's hope by the time that's necessary this little one can hold a gun by themselves.”

Cas shook his head, “that's crazy, thinking about the fact that the bump is gonna be a person in a few months.”

Dean blew his breath out, setting down his controller, “I was thinking about that earlier. It's...scary as hell.”

Cas reached over and rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder, “you're gonna do great. And you have all of us for support.”

Dean gripped Cas’ hand and smiled, “thanks Cas.” Cas’ words actually meant a helluva lot to Dean, who was still on the fence about his impending parenthood. However, just knowing that Cas was in this for the long haul, made everything so much less bleak.

Dean took a moment to watch Cas now, as he took another bite of ice cream. His broad, pink lips shaped around the dessert almost salaciously. His striking, cerulean eyes were trained on the video game screen as he opened a new round. His long, slender fingers curled tightly around the control…

Dean swallowed hard, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. How was he getting so hot and bothered watching Cas eat ice cream?

Cas glanced sideways and finally seemed to notice Dean’s stare, “are you okay? You look kinda sick.”

Nice, _sick_. Dean needed to work on his seductive expression.

“I'm fine,” he assured the other boy, running his tongue down over his lower lip.

 _That_ got Cas’ attention. Dean became acutely hyper aware of every move he made. His pupils dilated a fraction, and one of his eyebrows inched up ever-so-slightly. “Uh,” Cas shook his head a little, as if trying to clear it, “you wanna go another round?”

A small smirk split across Dean’s face, and he leaned closer, “we gotta have round _one_ first, you know.”

Cas’ jaw unhinged, snapped shut, and then hit the floor again. It took him a moment to compose himself, before he stammered out, “what are you doing?”

Dean ignored the obvious confusion in his friend’s voice, inhibitions dissipated. Arousal was coursing through his hormone-charged body, and he was sick of resisting. He'd needed this since the first time Cas had touched him. From the moment he saw those blue eyes. He _needed_ this. He was done with trying to be good. He didn't care anymore. If this screwed things up, so be it. His body wouldn't let him fight this urge.

He moved a little closer still, running his palm smoothly over Cas’ sweatpants-clad thigh. _God_ , the older boy looked irresistible even in comfortable attire.

Dean knew what to do. This was hardly his first rodeo.

He squeezed Cas’ thigh, and a small moan smoothed it's way out of the brunette boy’s throat. Deep, guttural, _fantastic._

“D-Dean,” Castiel stammered, reaching down and grabbing Dean around the knuckles, “you-you-”

“It's okay,” Dean murmured, “I want this.”

“The-the _baby_ -”

“Baby's fine Cas.”

“Dean-”

“Why are you fighting this? Do you...not want me?” Dean hadn't considered that. He quickly removed his hand from where it'd been rhythmically stroking Cas’ inner thigh, folding his fingers together in his lap.

Of course Cas wouldn't want him. He wasn't the cutest cork in the toolbox, and he was especially round in the middle as of late. He’d been unhappy to discover a few pink stretch marks adorning his sides the other morning, and the cold weather and lack of sun was definitely getting to his pallor.

But...Cas didn't usually care about those things. He was a little surprised by the rejection. His chest felt tight.

“No!” Cas insisted, quickly, “Dean trust me, I _want_ this, more-more than anything.” He closed his eyes, as if he was trying to will himself into speaking, “but...I'm a….I've never...I haven't ever…”

Dean stared at him for a moment, until realization slapped him upside the head, “you're a _virgin_?”

Cas’ cheeks were suddenly very red. He looked flustered, “it's not like I've never had the opportunity! It's just...I've wanted to wait. For...someone special.”

Right. Cas wouldn't want to waste his v-card on Dean. Why would he? Dean had been with more than a few people, he wasn't pretty, or fascinating, or kind and genuine like Cas was. Not to mention, he was a pregnant teen who'd been homeless more than once in his lifetime. How had he let his lust overcome his logic? Guys like Cas simply don't want guys like Dean.

“And you haven't yet.” Dean tried to ignore how small his voice sounded, “I understand.”

“No,” Cas groaned, looking more frustrated with himself than anything else, “God! How do I say this? I-I want to! But...but I….don't want to...disappoint you.”

Dean had never seen Cas like this before. He was usually so suave. It was kinda nice, “ _disappoint_ me?” He thought the idea of that was pretty absurd.

“I have no experience, I've never even…” His face somehow got even redder, “ _touched_ myself. I wouldn't know which way is up.”

“Holy shit,” Dean’s eyes were wide; hell, even he’d taken care of himself a few times, and his life didn't exactly revolve around sexual pleasure.

“My dad was a priest,” he said lamely, “mom’s religious...I just...I haven't...oh god I can't believe I'm even _telling_ you this. You probably think I'm such a dork.”

Dean giggled a bit, “you are a dork, but I already knew that. Cas, we don't have to do anything you don't wanna do.”

“I want to,” Cas assured him sincerely, “but I'm….just not really ready.”

Dean reached over and grabbed his hands, squeezing tightly and holding on, “that's okay. You don't have to be. I'm sorry for trying to jump your bones.”

Cas smiled weakly, “I'm sorry you thought I didn't _want_ said bone jumping.”

He chuckled, “I wouldn't blame you. That must've surprised you.”

“That wasn't the first time I've been randomly groped,” Cas winked, “and it is like…date three hundred. Roughly. Can't say I wouldn't expect you to try after this long.”

Dean wanted to protest to the “date” thing, but he figured he'd probably lost that right by now. After all, he'd just tried to get in Cas’ pants. That probably garners a title more advanced than _“friends.”_

“So no sexual stuff ,” Dean said surely, offering the now relaxed boy a smile.

Cas returned it easily, “not now. But...kissing. That's always allowed.”

Once again, Dean knew he had no way to get around this. There was no point in denying it anymore. He wanted Cas, badly. And apparently, Cas wanted him too. Nothing left to do but ride it out. He allowed Cas to tentatively press his lips against Dean’s.

Then, he allowed him to deepen the kiss, molding their lips evenly together as he felt Cas’ tongue slowly, slide in and make its way around. He returned the favor, suppressing the moan that threatened upon his throat. Cas’ mouth shaped perfectly around Dean’s, his lips tasted like sweet chocolate, and they were ice cold. In hindsight, that was pretty gross, but it only made Dean want him more. Eventually, after what felt like years, they broke apart, chests heaving with pants. Castiel wiped at his face, blinking rapidly.

“You good?” He asked Dean heavily.

Dean nodded, his body felt light and weightless, “yeah, you?”

Cas nodded, “I love kissing you.”

“I love kissing you too.”

“so… What are we?”

Dean cringed. He wasn't quite sure what to say to that, “I...I don't know Cas.”

The other boy thought for a moment, then shrugged, “that's okay. Let's stay in limbo for a while, it's kinda nice.”

Dean's eyes widened, “are you sure?”

“Yeah, why not? We don't need to go to dances or anything, but we can make out sometimes.”

Dean snorted, “I've never been to a dance.”

“You're kidding?” Cas demanded in disbelief.

His face felt hot, “I've never exactly had the opportunity to be swept off my feet and asked to dance.”

“Unacceptable!” Cas got to his feet and crossed the room. He stuck his phone on the speaker and turned the volume up to a level that Dean was sure would annoy Naomi. But Cas didn't seem to care.

Chuck Berry’s _“You Never Can Tell”_ began playing, and Dean recognized it from the soundtrack of one of the gory movies Cas had made him watch. Cas crossed over in his pjs, bowing respectfully to Dean and extending his hand, “Dean Winchester, may I have this dance?”

Dean had to giggle at how cheesy it was, but he allowed Cas to take his hand and help his unbalanced, pregnant-self to his feet. Cas took his other hand and began twirling Dean around in a way that made him dizzy. He wasn't sure where Cas had learned to dance like he was at a sock-hop, but he was enjoying himself. Cas spun Dean in a circle and threw him into a dip which would've given him whiplash if Cas hadn't supported his back and winked at him. The wink itself probably could've caused the whiplash.

They whirled around the room, barefoot, in pajamas, one pregnant and sloppily trying to keep up with the talented one. Dean didn't care how embarrassingly bad he was at dancing, especially to 50s music. He was having a blast. They did a few more upbeat dances to _Shake Rattle and Roll_ and _Get Rhythm_ but soon it pandered out to Elvis’ _Fools Rush In_. Cas’ feet slowed noticeably, he slid his hands down to Dean’s waist, and he pulled him close. Dean’s swollen belly kept them fairly separate, and he felt a bit insecure with his large middle pressing tightly against Cas’ toned one, but as usual Castiel didn't seem to care.

He looked lost in the music, eyes listful as he slowly moved Dean in circles around the room. He was beautiful like this. Dean wished he could take a picture with his mind of this moment. Cas’ skin was bathed in a dim, golden glow from the lamplight, his brilliant eyes a burst of color in the lowly lit room. His expression was peaceful, relaxed and almost...angelic. He looked absolutely purged of any ill-feeling, just a small ray of innocence and happiness as he moved his body in sync with Dean’s.

The moment was peaceful, calm, and absolutely the most beautiful night Dean’d ever had. He didn't feel afraid. He didn't feel stressed. He felt weightless. He felt pure. He felt completely and irrefutably _wonderful_.

And he knew that he was done fighting the way he felt about Cas. Not when Cas made him feel this way.

He took Castiel’s face in his hands, and met the taller boy’s eyes. Cas looked a little confused, and then Dean leaned up and gently brushed his lips against Cas’. They lingered there for a moment, eyes closed, noses touching, not really kissing but not moving away. For a brief second, Dean felt closer to Castiel than he'd ever felt to anyone. His heart squeezed and spluttered, as Cas gently kisses the tip of his nose and then pulled him in for a hug.

“I love you Dean,” Cas whispered.

“I know Cas.” Dean replied.

* * *

 

Cas dropped Dean off the next morning with a smile on his face. He was in high spirits due to the previous night's events. The night had ended with sleepy spooning -Cas was a definite big spoon and Dean loved it- and there was some gentle belly rubbing. It took Dean a little by surprise, but it almost felt like a reassurance that Cas cared about baby just as much as he did about Dean. Cas gave him a quick peck goodbye, and Dean entered the house feeling happier than he had in his whole life.

“Bobby?” He called, relishing in the familiarity of the foyer. He didn't want to admit how much he'd actually missed…. _home_ , last night.

“Kitchen!”

Dean slipped off his shoes and set down his bag, shuffling into the kitchen. He was still clad in pajamas from last night, and he'd yet to brush his teeth so he hoped this went fairly quickly.

Bobby was sitting at the table, a mess of paperwork that Dean barely even noticed, in front of him. Benny and Sam stood behind him, almost like back-up flanks. The position seemed too defensive for Dean to be comfortable. He squared his shoulders, eyeing them dubiously.

“What's up?”

“We need to talk.” Bobby said in an utterly serious voice.

Dean's eyes widened, and his insides clenched up tensely. Every fiber in his being screamed at him to flee, but he held his ground, blinking back tears and swallowing heavily. Bobby had spent so much time assuring him that this day would never come, this completely blindsided him.

“Oh.” He said.

“Don't freak out please,” Bobby responded quickly, “it's...not bad. It's just...complicated.”

 _Not bad for you maybe_ , Dean thought bitterly. He said nothing.

Bobby took a deep breath, and then ventured quietly, “what would you think of us...adopting you?”

Dean started to open his mouth to plead, but then it snapped shut. _That_ was not what he'd expected to hear.

“What?” He demanded.

Benny stepped forward, smiling tentatively, “we really care about you Dean, and you're already apart of this family. We wanna make it official.”

Dean felt woozy, his knees were Jell-O, and his stomach was a carnival pretzel from hell. He stumbled once, pressing his palms flat against the countertop and sucking in a deep breath.

“Dean?” Bobby asked worriedly, and he heard the chair creak as the older man got to his feet.

“Y-you...you _want_ me,” Dean managed, “you _want me_? You want to keep me? Forever? You-you-you-”

“Yes, Dean.” Bobby whispered, taking Dean by the arm and pulling him in for a hug. Dean felt Sam join in and Benny's large arms wrap around them all.

“You want me,” he wasn't sure when he'd started sobbing, but it wasn't stopping now, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

The warmth in his chest that last night had helped form, only grew bigger. Standing there, being hugged by his, family, he felt so safe and whole. A forever family. Something so rare and dreamlike in the life of a foster child that he was almost afraid that he wasn't conscious. But the rapid hammering of his heart and the burn of his throat as he cried made it real enough.

He was home.

“I _love_ you guys,” he choked out, even though the words felt like hot acid on his tongue.

He didn't miss the slight sniffle in Bobby’s voice, “we love you too boy.”

Dean pulled away, wiping quickly at his face and chuckling breathlessly, “wow. Where do we start?”

“Now,” Bobby cleared his throat, “this is where things get...complicated.”

Benny handed Dean a glass of water. Dean thanked him, took a few sips, and then asked, “Why?”

Bobby huffed out a breath, “Since your father still has legal claim to you, we need him to sign away his parental rights so we can proceed with the adoption. This...this won't be easy Dean.”

He knew that Bobby was right. John wasn't going to give up his son without a fight, no matter how poorly he'd treated him as a child. This might be hell.

“Ms. Missouri and I were thinking the three of us could go visit him at County before we involve any lawyers or anything. Maybe talk face-to-face and try to convince him. I know it won't be easy, but if you're willing to try then it just might work.”

Though everything in Dean wanted him to tell Bobby _“screw it, just don't adopt me”_ he knew that couldn't happen. He needed this. He belonged here, and he was not going to let his scumbag of a father come between him and his happiness ever again.

He took a deep breath, “let's do it.”


	6. Guns for Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late Thanksgiving to those who celebrate! Sorry again for the wait!
> 
> WARNINGS: mentions/ recollections of child abuse, panic attacks, lots of fear and self-hate, confronting an abuser, violence. Think that's it?
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! More if you'd like :)

**NOVEMBER**

By the time they secured a spot on the visitors list at _Kripke County Incarceration,_ Dean was 24 weeks into his pregnancy. He'd had a good Halloween with Cas, and Bobby; they'd passed out candy together. He'd never really celebrated a Halloween; he remembered a few superhero costumes from when his mom was alive, but it's otherwise been the sounds of drunken shouts and bottles being thrown.

Benny and Sam were both out at Halloween parties. Benny came home drunk, Dean promised not to tell Bobby. Sam came home and asked Dean what second base was. Apparently, he got to it.

Anyway, today was the day. They were going to see John. Dean wished his now very visible belly was easier to conceal, but he had to settle for wearing all black -jeans and a black pullover- and hope it did the job fairly well.

At breakfast, Benny asked him if he was nervous about seeing his dad.

He said, nervous wasn't the word.

Benny looked at his waffles; he seemed to understand.

They met Ms. Missouri outside the prison. On the ride there Dean had bitten his nails down to stubs, and Bobby probably would've scolded him for the bad habit if he didn't get how freaked Dean was about this.

"How you doin baby?” She asked, pulling him in for a hug. He gripped her tightly, deciding not to mention the nightmares he'd been having every night for the past few weeks. Might make her change her mind about this.

“I'm fine,” he breathed.

“It's cold out here, let's get inside.” Bobby urged, glancing at the reddening of Dean’s cheeks and nose. He'd started going into overbearing parent mode recently. Dean wasn't sure if it was from the visible progression of pregnancy or the inevitable visit to County, but he wasn't complaining. He could admit it; he liked being coddled on occasion.

They stepped into the lobby and a quick burst of heat washed over Dean’s body. He stomped sludgy snow off his boots on the mat, and looked around. The waiting room wasn't too intimidating. Concrete walls, plush chairs and a coffee table with a magazine. There was a clinical woman in a police uniform at the desk, scowling as soon as they entered. Dean swallowed hard, trying to calm the rapid pulsating of his heart.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Cas asking how everything was going. He didn't answer. They stepped up to the desk.

 _1...2...3.._.they were there so fast it gave him whiplash. The words faded in and out, _“...John Winchester...visit….his son….”_

A loud buzz ruptured through the room and two heavy metal doors swung open. Another officer met them at the doors and gestured for them to follow. Dean was nauseous. Bobby’s hand clamped down on his shoulder as they walked; a sign of comfort. He appreciated it.

They reached a room cluttered with metal tables and chairs, filled to the brim with people in orange jumpsuits sitting across from people in normal attire. Along the room, corrections officers were scattered, lazily flipping through magazines or scowling at inmates. Dean’s eyes zeroed in on a table in the back left corner. One person sat, his own eyes trained precisely on Dean’s face.

They stared at each other from across the room.

“Dean? You ready baby?” Ms. Missouri nudged him gently. He took a robotic step forward, each foot feeling like lead. His arms hung limply at his sides, his eyes focused on his father’s expression.

They reached the table at the speed of light, giving Dean no time to prepare.

Bobby positioned his body pointedly, half way in front of Dean, shoulders squared, “Hello.”

John got to his feet. Dean had forgotten how tall he was. His muscles tensed to spring, but he just moved behind Bobby more. Every nerve in his body felt tense and raw, ripped to shreds, his heart was bursting from his chest. He moved a hand over his stomach and laid it there, as if his slender knuckles would be a decent barrier between the baby and John.

Truthfully, a country border wouldn't be far enough.

“You must be Robert Singer.” He'd forgotten how gruff that voice was.

“Bobby.”

“And you're Missouri Mosely?”

“Yes. May we sit?”

“‘Course.”

Missouri and John sat first, across from each other at the round table. Bobby leaned down to quietly ask, “you alright?” 

Dean nodded stiffly, taking his seat next to Missouri. Bobby sat on his other side.

He found himself staring at John again. The man looked about the same, just a little older. Same weathered scars, same scruffy, dark facial hair, same set brows and pouting lips. His glimmering green eyes that matched Dean’s, were still cold and brunt. The wide, thick mountain of muscles decorating his biceps made Dean's shoulders tense. He'd seen what those could do.

“It's not polite to stare.” John said to him.

Dean looked at his feet.

“Are you not going to speak to me?” The older man demanded.

“Let's not worry about that,” Missouri cut in diplomatically, “we're here to discuss some things.”

“Not until my son speaks to me. Dean Henry Winchester, I haven't seen you in years. Look me in the eye.”

Dean’s head snapped up and met his eyes.

Bobby looked disturbed by that immediate response, “you don't have to do what he says Dean.” He growled.

But Dean’s survival instincts were kicking into overdrive now. No way in _hell_ would he defy his father. Not if he wanted this baby to be born with all its limbs.

“So you're with child,” John said carefully, “how far along are you?”

Dean had also forgotten John’s perfect social etiquette and manners. It almost made him forget the things he could do behind closed doors. But, that was probably his game.

“Six months.” Dean replied in a voice that was dangerously close to a whisper.

“Speak up, it's not polite to whisper.”

 _It's also not polite to beat the shit out of your kids_.

“Six months.”

“Who's the father?”

“Does any of this matter?” Bobby snapped, narrowing his eyes at John, the vein in his neck becoming more prominent with every word John spoke.

John’s head snapped sideways, reptilian gaze trained on Bobby. To his credit, the other man didn't back down, but Dean feared for his safety. “Listen carefully you tobacco-spitting hick, Dean is _my_ son, not yours. So I'm going to converse with him and ask him anything I’d like. Kindly find your way out of this conversation, and perhaps to a bar of soap.”

“Hey!” Dean growled, “don't talk to him like that.”

He was surprisingly emboldened by John being rude to Bobby. First of all, Bobby’d been more of a father to Dean that John ever was, and his hygiene was excellent. John could knock Dean around as much as he fuckin pleased, but _not_ Dean’s family.

“Excuse me?”

“I said don't talk to him like that,” Dean repeated, voice wavering, “it's- it's not polite.”

How the hell had he just challenged his father?

“Why you little-” John moved to stand but Bobby got up quicker and grabbed his collar, like he'd been waiting for a moment to strike.

“If you lay a goddamn finger on him I swear I'll kill you and end up right where you're sitting! Don't make any fucking moves!”

“Hey!” One of the lady C.O.s closed her magazine and scowled in their general direction, “break it up or visitations over.”

Bobby roughly released John and sat back down. John brushed off the front of his jumpsuit with offense and took his seat. Dean stared at Bobby in amazement. No one had ever stood up to John before, not like that. He'd also never seen Bobby that aggressive.

Perhaps his awe translated a little bit into fear.

“Why are you here anyway?” John snarled, “certainly not out of the kindness of your hearts.”

Missouri cleared her throat, “we'd like to discuss terms for Dean’s adoption.”

John’s eyes narrowed darkly, “adoption?”

“Bobby would like to adopt him.”

“No! He can't! That's _my_ son!”

Bobby scoffed, “sure didn't seem worried about that when you were beatin’ him senseless.”

Dean flinched. Bobby didn't notice; he was glaring at John.

“I made mistakes,” John seethed, “but that doesn't mean I don't have rights to my own child.”

Missouri’s eyes narrowed, “well Mr. Winchester, we could do this two ways. One: you could give up custody and sign the adoption papers the easy way. Or two: we find the best lawyer in the state and we fight to pry Dean from your fingers. And you know how the court feels about abusing children. You'll go down faster than you can say _custody._ ”

John’s scowl somehow deepened, furrowing the lines of his face. He seemed to be weighing his options. He looked as if he was leaning towards letting Dean go. He opened his mouth to speak, but just as he did a loud gasp choked out of Dean’s throat before he could stop it. His hands flew to his middle, grasping at his pullover frantically. Something shifted inside him and realization had his eyes popping wide.

_The baby kicked!_

“Dean?” Bobby moved towards him instantly, hands on his arms, “Dean what is it?”

“I-I'm fine,” Dean managed to stammer out, even in his own shock. The baby kicked again, particularly rough, and he let out a , “whoa!”

“ _Dean!_ ” Bobby repeated worriedly.

“Bobby feel!” Dean grabbed the older man's wrists, not caring that they were in public or that his abusive father was watching with hard eyes. He pressed Bobby’s hands flat across his stomach, where a steady stream of kicks was being produced.

Bobby's brows shot straight up, “is that? Is he?”

Dean nodded excitedly, grinning.

“What's going on?” John demanded, staring at Dean’s stomach like it was about to explode.

“The baby's kicking! For the first time!” Dean responded giddily, not even looking in John’s direction.

“Boy! Let me feel.” Missouri flicked Bobby's hands away and took over, grinning widely, “he's strong. Just like his daddy.”

“Or she.” Dean corrected.

“Can I feel it?” John asked boldly.

Dean’s lip curled up angrily, “you are the last person I'd let near my baby.”

John’s jaw clenched, “fine. Take it to court Missouri, because I'm not letting my son and grandchild go. I don't care if I need to fight for them. That baby needs a strong man in its life.”

Dean’s teeth ground together, “then why would we want _you_ in her life?”

John's fists clenched, “listen here, I may have screwed up a few times when you were a kid-”

“Screwed up?” Dean felt every built up emotion that his father had hammered into him nearing the edge. The anger, the fear, the sadness, it all was beginning to resurface, “you beat me until I couldn't walk! You said things to me that no child should _ever_ have to hear. You ruined my life! How dare you try to stake a claim on the one thing that's kept me whole?” Dean folded his arms protectively over his middle, “I'll die before I let you anywhere near my baby.”

“And _that_ isn't happening,” Bobby snapped in a clear, sure voice, “so make your next move carefully, Johnathan.”

John seemed particularly annoyed by the use of his full name, but he looked swayed, “I'll sign the papers on one condition.”

“No conditions,” Bobby argued.

“Let him talk Bobby,” Missouri ordered, eyes hard.

“I'll sign the papers if Dean comes to visit me.”

“What?” Dean demanded.

“If you come visit me at least once a month, including when the baby's born, until you're 18, I'll allow the adoption.”

“No!” Dean cried, “why would I ever agree to that?!”

“Because it's the only way I'm signing the papers.”

Bobby's jaw clenched.

“Why would you even want me to visit?” Dean inquired.

“I want to meet my grandchild and make sure my son is doing okay. Is that so absurd?”

“For _you_? Yes!”

“I've heard enough,” Missouri cut in, “John Winchester I am not subjecting this boy and this baby to a visit with you every month. They just don't deserve that, it's a sick and mangled punishment for something they didn't do. So you should look into legal counsel, because we're taking you to court. Dean, Bobby, are we done here?”

Both men nodded and began standing. This time, it was Missouri with her arm around Dean, instead of the other way around. It was becoming increasingly difficult to find his balance with his beach ball of a belly, so they'd switched roles with who helped who stand up.

“You're going to regret this.” John growled, “you think you can actually be a father? No. You're just an idiot slut who got knocked up! You're gonna end up just like me, you watch, you just watch-”

Bobby started forward again, looking more furious than Dean had ever seen him. But Missouri grabbed his arm and held him back, shaking her head.

“I want to go,” Dean insisted quickly, feeling hot tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“You're lucky,” Bobby spit at John, “you're so lucky.”

“Take a swing!” John challenged, rising to his feet, “if you're so tough!”

“Hey!” The same C.O. from before shouted, but she didn't look up from her magazine this time. The other officers didn't seem to notice.

Bobby's fists curled tightly, “I'm not gonna hit you, not in front of Dean.”

John scoffed, “if he can _take_ a punch, I'm sure he can _watch_ one.”

That did it. Bobby lurched forward and grabbed John’s collar, pulling him close as he swung his fist. The impact thudded into John’s face and sent him spiraling back into the wall. His back slammed against the concrete and he groaned loudly. Already, there was a darkening swell around his right eye.

“Enough!” Now the officer had thrown her magazine down and was grabbing Bobby by the biceps, “move it! Let's go!”

She began shuffling them towards the door while the other officers attended to John.

“You're not getting my son!” John screamed as they were pushed out by the officer, “no way in Hell! He's _mine_!”

The doors closed on his shouts. The officer told them to get the hell out, and that they weren't allowed back. They were lucky she wasn't arresting Bobby right there. For some reason, Dean couldn't look him in the eye.

“Are you okay baby?” Missouri asked Dean once they were outside, placing her hands on his face, “I understand that was extremely overwhelming.”

“I'm fine,” he lied.

He still didn't look at Bobby. He had a feeling that his nightmares would have a surprising new character in them. He felt bad for being afraid of Bobby but...he'd never seen the man act that way before. If he was capable of that kind of violence, who says that Dean couldn't push him too far...just once...and then it would spiral. He swallowed hard at the thought Bobby giving him a black eye to match John’s.

“Are you sure?” Missouri asked worriedly, “I'm concerned about how this will affect you, especially since you stopped seeing Ellen.”

“Please Ms. Missouri, I just…I want to put this behind me. I'm cold, could we go?” It wasn't entirely a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

She sighed, but nodded, “alright. I'll call you both later. You take care of him Bobby.”

“Course Missouri.”

They parted ways and Dean loaded up into Bobby’s truck, fiddling with the strings of his pullover as Bobby blasted the heat. They drove in silence for a bit. Then, Bobby said, “I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“You know what.”

“Hey, someone had to put him in his place. Bout time _he_ was the one getting the black eye.”

“Well I'm glad you think so, but that's not what I was saying. I'm...I'm sorry that I scared you Dean.”

Shit, had he been that transparent? He didn't want Bobby to feel guilty. Dean probably would've acted the same way, roles reversed. But he still couldn't help but picture Bobby hitting John and imagine himself in John's place.

“Y-you didn't scare me.” Dean whispered. A complete lie.

“I'm sorry.” Bobby said again, “I hope you still trust me.”

The baby thumped hard against Dean’s middle. He patted his belly gently, a comforting gesture. He wasn't sure how to respond, so naturally, he said something dumb, “can you just drop me off at Cas’ place?”

Bobby glanced at him, “you don't want to come home?”

“I...uh...I need some time to think, that's all. Cas is...helpful with that stuff. Y’know, feelings and shit.”

Bobby took a sharp left; changing course to Cas’ place. “I get it.”

He said. The rest of the ride was silent.

* * *

 

The tears didn't come until Cas had completely closed his bedroom door. By the time Dean heard the click of the wood sliding into place, he was sobbing. He wasn't even sure what exactly he was crying about. All he knew was there was a sharp pain in his chest that ricocheted through his whole body and made him want to collapse. Cas wrapped Dean up in his arms and brought him to the mattress, stroking his hair and letting the smaller boy sob into his chest. He didn't ask questions, he didn't pry, he just held Dean.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Dean settled down enough to snivel out, “s-sorry about your sh-sh-shirt.”

Cas’ sky blue tee was drenched in tears. The brunette chuckled, “I think it'll forgive you. Are you okay?”

“I want to curl up in bed and never come out,” Dean sniffled, wiping at his soaked face, “everything hurts.”

“Your dad?” Cas asked softly. Dean surprised Cas by shaking his head.

“No?”

Dean shook his head again, “no. He...he was as I expected. Horrible, but...I'm used to _him_ being awful. Bobby was-”

“Did he hurt you?” Cas voice was as rough as sandpaper.

“No no,” Dean assured him quickly, “he...punched my dad.”

Castiel’s brows shot up, “he what?”

“My dad was saying something about me...Bobby grabbed him and punched him in the face. Left a nasty bruise.”

Cas frowned a little, “and…”

“He scared me.” Dean admitted in a small voice.

“Oh, Dean.” Cas’ arms tightened around him, and he kissed the top of the blonde boy's head, “Bobby wouldn't lay a finger on you. You know that.”

“I know.” Dean felt like crying again, “which is why I feel so damn guilty about being scared of him. He's been nothing but amazing and...this is how I repay him.”

Dean was relieved that it was getting easier to open up to Cas now. He was the only person Dean felt comfortable talking to about his fucked up feelings. Cas was doing a better job in a month than Ellen had in five. Cas ran a hand through Dean’s hair, carding his slender fingers slowly through the fine locks on his head. Dean’s rugged military cut had grown out a bit since his last cleanup, he needed to get it done.

Cas mused as he stroked his hair softly, “it's okay to be afraid. After what you've been through, it only makes sense that this would upset you. And Bobby knows that, I promise. He understands. It's gonna be alright, Dean.”

Dean looked up at Cas’ sincere expression and nodded, “thank you.” He said weakly. Cas reached down and gave Dean’s hand a squeeze, “of course my love.” Just as Cas began to move his hand out of Dean’s the baby began kicking again. Dean breathed in sharply and gripped Cas’ fingers with iron urgency.

“Whoa, Dean? What's wrong are you alright?”

“Fine fine! Cas, feel.” He grabbed Cas’ hand and pressed it flat against his rounded stomach, where the kicks were strongest.

Cas gasped, “The baby's kicking! Since when?”

“Since today, actually.” Dean smiled at the feeling.

“Oh my god, that's so cool!” Cas’ eyes were filled with wonder, and it made Dean’s heart warm to see such adoration for his own baby; Cas really did love them both.

“You're so amazing.” Cas whispered, and then to Dean’s stomach: “you too little girl, you're gonna raise Hell.”

“Don't giver her any ideas,” Dean snorted. Cas grinned down at Dean, and leaned in to press a soft, quick, and yet passionate kiss against Dean’s mouth. Dean eagerly returned the kiss, smiling back.

“So are you gonna go home?” Cas inquired, “if you want, you can stay here. If you need a little time to...get comfortable with Bobby again.”

“Won't your mom mind?”

Cas looked down, “she's in Vegas this week for a case.”

“Sorry. Maybe I'll stay here tonight. Just tonight?”

Cas perked up instantly, “awesome. You should probably call Bobby and explain.”

Dean sighed heavily, “you're right, as usual. But I really don't want to.”

Despite this, he got up and crossed the room to where he'd thrown his cell on the way in. Bobby was on speed dial.

“Dean?” He answered on the first ring.

“Hey Bobby…”

Cas gestured towards the bathroom and headed out to give Dean some privacy.

“Everything alright? You sound like you've got the sniffles or somethin’. You feelin’ okay?”

“Yeah m’alright Bobby. Just been a rough day, you know. Um I want to say I'm sorry for-”

“Dean I understand you don't owe me any apologies.” Bobby promised sincerely.

Dean hesitated, unsure of whether or not he really wanted to say what he was thinking. However, if his time with Bobby had taught him anything, it was to be honest and trusting with his new family. He cleared his throat and spoke.

“Bobby, you scared the shit out of me today. I...I’ve never seen you so upset before and it honestly freaked me the fuck out. I-I couldn’t stop picturing you doing that to me instead of Dad. And...and...that’s not your fault. It’s me, you’ve been nothing but kind to me and, well shit, it’s not cool of me to act like you’re all of a sudden some big scary bad guy. I’m really sorry for acting weird around you, you deserve better. I know you’d never hurt me, Bobby.”

“Dean, no. I should’ve...contained myself. It wasn’t right of me to behave that way in front of you. With what you’ve been through, it’s cruel to display that type of violence around you. Especially against someone like your father...he clearly still has a hold over you.”

Dean sighed, scratching his neck anxiously, this wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped, “I guess so. But...I bet you of all people get how hard it is to let go.”

“I do, Dean.”

“And Bobby...I’m serious, stop apologizing for clocking him. He deserved it. I’m going to be out in the real world, I need to learn to cope with seeing shit like that. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. We’re okay. I promise.”

“Are you going to come home?”

Dean hesitated, gnawing on his lip reluctantly, “Maybe I could stay at Cas’? Just for tonight? Today was a lot to process...not because of you.”

“I understand Dean. I love you. We all love you.”

“You too Bobby. Tell the guys the same.”

“Will do. You call if you need anything, ya’ hear?”

“Promise.”

“Bye Dean.”

“Bye Bobby.”

The line disconnected and Dean let out the breath he’d been holding for the entire phone call. The toilet flushed in Cas’ bathroom, though Dean was sure it hadn’t been used. Cas poked his head out, wagging his eyebrows curiously.

“You can come out,” Dean chuckled, “Though I’m fairly certain you heard all of that, seeing as your flush was pretty conveniently timed.”

Cas shrugged innocently, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. How’d it go?” he moved closer behind Dean and circled his hands around the shorter boy’s waist, cupping his palms under Dean’s rounded middle. The baby kicked him excitedly, and his answering grin wasn’t lost on Dean.

“It went alright.” Dean leaned back into the dip of his chest, allowing himself to enjoy the sturdy comfort of his best friend, “I...I was honest with him. We talked, actually talked and communicated. I never do that. It felt good.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Cas whispered gently, nipping at Dean’s ear with curious lips, “you’ve come so far, Dean. You’re doing so well.”

“Nice of you to say,” Dean mused, whirling around to land a peck on Cas’ mouth, “you’re part of the reason why.”

“Glad I can be of service.”

Dean’s stomach growled suddenly, interrupting the saccharine moment. Dean snorted, “Think you could be of service in another department?”

Cas laughed, “To the kitchen!”

* * *

 

Dean couldn’t sleep.

Usually, he conked right out to the soft thrum of Cas’ horrible, grating snore -he seriously wondered if the guy used pebbles for mouthwash- that matched his deep, gravelly voice. But tonight, even Cas’ surely corrupted nasal and the sweet smell of cinnamon couldn’t put Dean to sleep. He stared at the whirling ceiling fan, replaying the day’s events over in his head. The ceiling fan was good, he could focus on it’s rotating movements. Simple, harmless, constant whirring. Back and forth...back and forth...back and forth…

If he looked away from the fan, he’d start to get carried away in his thoughts. If he closed his eyes, he’d see his father’s face with a blackened eye. He’d see Bobby swinging his fist into Dean’s face. He’d see racks of clothing scattered in front of him as he cowered in the closet from his father’s booming voice. He’d see the jar of his mother’s ashes being thrown into the garbage. He’d remember fishing it out and crying when his father caught him. He’d remember the way his ribs ached for a week after that. He’d think about his baby getting caught in the crossfire of his father’s custody fight.

So, he stared at the fan.

Cas rumbled in his sleep; he did that a lot. Dean wondered what he was dreaming about. Probably more pleasant things and places. His long, lean body rolled sideways just an inch, and his arm flopped over Dean’s side. The still sleeping Cas pulled Dean in closer, so he was spooning him from behind. His hand fell limp on Dean’s bump. Dean closed his eyes.

But the security of Cas’ touch didn’t do the trick like he’d hoped. The images he’d been fighting to avoid flashed across his mind. He quickly snapped his eyes open, but it did no good. The thoughts were superglued to his retinas. His father’s hands closed around his biceps. Bobby’s knuckles collided with his eye. They pushed at each other to get to him, to get to his baby. Someone sat on his chest, trying to crush his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. His vision blurred as they continued hitting him.

There was wetness coating his face, but he wasn’t sure if it was sweat, tears, or blood. He didn’t care. His breathing sped up, nearing a wheeze as he struggled to push whoever was sitting on his chest off. Nothing budged. He tried to call out for help, but his throat closed up and filled with clay. He coughed for air, but the clay tightened in his esophagus. He jerked his body once, shooting an elbow behind him unintentionally.

Cas whipped into a sitting position, eyes wide, face confused. Dean whirled away from him, bending his body over the bed and grappling at his chest, his entire body still being beaten black and blue by an unseen, but known force.

“Dean?” Cas groggy voice echoed through his mind, though Dean’s ears felt like they were slowly filling up with ocean water. He continued scratching at his chest, trying to claw away the weight that was trying to compress his lungs into recyclable material.

“Dean?” Cas repeated, scooching over to sit on the edge of the bed by Dean. His eyes got even wider when he saw Dean gasping for air and dragging his hands across his chest for dear life, “Dean! Hey baby talk to me! Dean! What’s happening? Should I call an ambulance?! What’s going on!” he reached over to touch him, but Dean screamed and scrambled off the bed, landing on his knees on the hardwood. He dropped to his side and curled up in a ball, still screaming and trying to breathe. The air was closing in on him now, there was no escape. He was going to suffocate to death.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Cas was cursing quietly as he launched himself off the bed and clicked on his bedside lamp, grabbing his half-empty water bottle. He dropped to his knees in front of Dean’s trembling, wildly-jerking form.

“Dean, it’s okay. You’re safe baby, you’re safe. It’s me Castiel. You’re in my bedroom, it’s just us, we’re alone. We can breathe. Dean please look at me.”

Dean tore his eyes away from his hands, still clawing at his chest, and stared at Cas. He was kneeling before Dean, cerulean eyes wider than saucers as he gripped the water bottle in tightly clenched fingers. The bones in his knuckles poked through his skin, the veins in his hand thickening under tense flesh. His lower lip was trembling, but he was clearly trying to stay calm. For Dean’s sake.

The air got a little lighter. Bobby and John’s fists stopped coming.

Cas shuffled closer, placing one palm flat on the floor and sliding it across the wood until it touched Dean’s hands. Cas’ fingers curled around Dean’s skin, and he wrenched the clawing hands away from Dean’s now-torn t-shirt.

“It’s okay doll, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.”

_Safe safe safe safe it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay safe safe safe_

“It’s me, Cas. I’m here. Castiel. It’s just us sweetheart. You and me. No one can hurt us.”

_Cas safe safe Cas Cas Cas safe no one can hurt us_

Dean inhaled once. His throat was raw and sore from screaming and struggling to breathe. His chest burned, but he dared not look down for fear he’d seriously injured himself with his own nails. He didn’t move from the floor, keeping his cheek pressed against the cool hardwood. He was pretty sure Cas had carpet at one point, but they’d recently changed up the decor. He wished they hadn’t, a carpet would have been much gentler on his knees when he hit the floor. He hoped that hadn’t hurt the baby.

“Dean?” Cas whispered, as if Dean were a startled doe, “Dean, may I touch you?”

Dean didn’t answer; he couldn’t talk. His throat was on fire and he wasn’t sure if he could breathe well enough yet to waste precious oxygen. Black spots danced across his vision as his gasping pandered out completely to just wheezing.

Cas pushed the water bottle towards him, but respected his space. Dean reached a shaking hand out and took the bottle, holding it to his unsure lips. He dribbled some water in, and quickly chugged down the rest of it as it alleviated the ache in his throat.

He stared at Cas. Cas stared back.

They did this for about a minute, then Cas got to his feet and said, “I’m going to get you more water. I will be _right_ back. I’m not leaving. I am coming back. You’re okay. Do you understand?”

Dean nodded. Cas left. He was back in two minutes with his arms full of plastic water bottles and a banana tucked in between two long fingers. He sat down criss-cross beside Dean on the floor and pushed another water towards him. He still refrained from touching the other boy. Dean finished this water a bit more slowly. When it was empty, he pushed himself into a sitting position and tucked his knees up around his middle, cradling the baby between his pajama-clad legs.

“Dean,” Cas murmured.

Dean looked sideways at him.

 

“I think we should look at your chest. You were scratching kinda hard, and could’ve done some damage.” Every instinct in Dean told him to curl up under the bed and scream at Cas to go away. But Cas was trying to help. Cas loved him and wanted to be here for him.

He nodded again.

Cas held his hand out. Dean took it and let Castiel help him to his wobbly feet. Cas walked him to the bathroom, letting Dean lean on him almost entirely for support. He couldn’t be light at six months into his pregnancy, but Cas didn’t seem to notice. Perhaps he was on an adrenaline high. He’d looked pretty freaked out. He rummaged around in his cabinets while Dean sat on the toilet seat lid, swallowing hard and trying to find his voice. It was lost somewhere in the tsunami-ridden sea of his mind.

“Could you take your shirt off, Dean?”

Somewhere in the back of Dean’s head, he worried over stretch marks and the small, outward nub of his belly button. But he was going through the motions right now, working his muscles in a robotic way. Forcing himself to comply with whatever Cas needed to help him. He slid the damp tee over his head, leaving his torso completely bare for Cas to see for the first time. His irrational, insecure side told him to quickly replace the material over his body so Cas couldn’t see the visible effects of pregnancy left on his torso. He wasn’t exactly a dreamboat right now. Who’s to say Cas wouldn’t totally ditch him after this combination of insane panic attack and balloon-belly?

But Cas didn’t even seem to be _seeing_ Dean’s body. He was studying his chest sure, but not in a material way. He was scrutinizing for injury. He looked relieved. “These scratches aren’t deep.” he said, eyes staying locked on Dean’s injuries, “your nails only dug through the shirt two or three times. I can clean them and put some bandaids on. Is that okay with you Dean?”

Another nod.

Cas got the disinfectant. He was very tentative and careful with Dean’s skin, probably expected it to hurt when he cleaned the cuts. Dean didn’t feel anything though. His whole body was numb. He hardly even noticed the sting of the antiseptic, or the tight pinch of bandages on his skin. He _did_ notice when Cas left the bathroom, and he watched him go with alarm. But, the taller boy returned mere moments later with a new water bottle and a fresh, XL t-shirt. Cas had a surprising supply of those on hand. Dean wondered if he’d bought some in preparation of unplanned sleepovers with Dean, or if he’d been chubby as a kid.

The thought of a clumsy, chubby, 10 year old Cas stumbling around made Dean smile.

“You’re smiling,” Cas said in disbelief, “How...why...what…”

“Sorry,” Dean whispered as he replaced the shirt over his head and took a large gulp of water.

Cas squatted down in front of the toilet, his brows creasing in a concerned frown, “Don’t be sorry. Are you alright?”

“Yeah...I think so.”

“Was that a panic attack?”

“They usually aren’t that bad.”

Cas let a long breath out, “Scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.”

“S’okay. I just didn’t know what it was at first. I thought...I don’t know what I thought. Maybe you were choking or having an allergic reaction or the baby had somehow started crushing your lungs-” he shuddered at what was surely a much longer list of morbid possibilities he’d considered, “then you ran away from me and it clicked. Sorry it took me so long.”

“You figured it out fast enough,” Dean mumbled.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help. I’ve never experienced that before.”

“You were perfect Cas.”

“Are you alright though? The baby okay? You feeling sick or anything?”

Dean shook his head, “I'm okay Cas. Thank you so much.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” He replied honestly, gnawing on his lip, “could we go back to sleep?”

He really didn't want to discuss the horrible images that had consumed his consciousness. He was disgusted with himself for backtracking so far. He hadn't had a panic attack since the night of the football game. And even then, his father hadn't been a cause. And picturing Bobby in his horror...how could he? He wasn't going to tell anyone about this. He barely even wanted to think about it himself.

“Of course.”

Cas made him eat the entire banana he'd brought up and drink another water bottle -which of course meant he had to go pee- before they moved back to the bed. When they laid down, he curled up right behind Dean and brought him as close as humanly possible.

He buried his face in Dean’s neck, and whispered, “Goodnight Dean. You're safe.”

“I know Cas. Night.”


End file.
